


Three Cheers for Tyranny

by silentdescant



Series: Mafiaverse [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Murder, Character Death, Community: bandombigbang, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Murder, Organized Crime, Paranoia, Violence, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-20
Updated: 2009-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mafia AU. Loyalty – Respect – Honesty: values Frank takes to heart when he steps into position as Gerard Way's bodyguard and confidant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost: huge, huge, huge thank you to giddy_london, who has been with this fic since the very beginning, when it started out as a crappy little thing with a completely different focus. She encouraged me and gave me ideas, calmed me down when I freaked out about things like the pacing or the ending, and I think she loves this story as much as I do. Best cheerleader in the world. Some of these scenes never would've been written without her. ♥
> 
> Thank you as well to random_yayness and promisethstars, who read my drafts and offered opinions even though they barely knew who the characters were, and also to my entire f-list for not screaming at me to shut up when I rambled on and on and on about this fic without letting them read it. Sorry, guys. :P
> 
> I never thought this would be as long or as involved as it turned out to be. I think I used up a full notebook writing and rewriting and editing by hand when my computer broke, and I still have pages upon pages of outlines and drafts and notes stuffed into various backpacks. I'm even more in love with this story than I was when I first started writing it, and not only do I have several compainion ficlets already written, but I'm planning several more. I just can't let this universe go. I hope you all like it. xoxo
> 
> Fanart:  
> [Mug Shots](http://silentdescant.livejournal.com/279875.html) by laziilemon  
> eta: [Frank and Gerard](http://breathing-x.livejournal.com/19637.html) by breathing_x
> 
> Fanmix:  
> [this is a war that was over the day it began](http://silentdescant.livejournal.com/279721.html) by quarterturn

In the early 1900s, Francesco Ruscica and his family—two younger sisters and his mother and father—emigrated from Sicily to America, through Ellis Island. They lived in New York for a time, Francesco working as a delivery boy to earn some extra money for the family, even though he was only fourteen. His father soon got a job that awarded them more financial security, but Francesco kept working, learning English from the both the locals and the Irish, as well as several words and phrases of German. Though he never attended an English school, Francesco became an expert in finding out what people wanted or needed, and making himself available to provide it.

When the Ruscicas moved to New Jersey, Francesco kept up the contacts he’d made in New York, using them to build himself an even bigger social network. People he’d never met began to recognize him walking down the street. His father had laid the foundations for their family, but Francesco knew it was up to him to build their new home. And he was confident that he could do just that.

About twenty years later, Francesco Ruscica had changed his name to Frank Rush, reasoning that it was more distinctive in the almost completely Italian neighborhood, and that his American associates would trust him more if he had an Anglicized name. Frank had married another Sicilian immigrant, Anna-Maria, and they had a teenage son, Michael.

Everyone in their neighborhood knew Frank by name, and knew which nondescript brick house was his, and knew when his son’s birthday was. Frank had indeed built up a home for his family, and he was in the process of grooming young Michael to take over for him someday.

In 1950, Michael courted and married a girl from the neighborhood, Elena. Five years later, they welcomed their first daughter to the family, Belladonna. Michael had learned about the inner workings of his father’s business, and that certain aspects of it weren’t to be discussed outside the family. That certain parts were illegal. Frank was still in charge, though, and Michael wasn’t concerned when he and Elena had their second daughter, Maria. If Frank was disappointed that Michael hadn’t given him a grandson, he didn’t show it. He doted on the girls as only a rich, powerful man could, and in the 60s, he quietly handed over the Family to Michael.

Michael acted under his father’s exacting orders for several years, but when Frank died, things changed quickly. Michael pursued his morally ambiguous interests, hired his close friends to divide the workload (and share the blame, if the need ever arose), and invested his father’s fortune. With some of the money, he bought a house for his mother back in Sicily, and took his daughters there during the summer.

“La vita bella,” he told them, his two beautiful girls. They lived the good life, the perfect life.

Before long, though, his little girls became teenagers; Belladonna— _Donna_ , she insisted, in a fit of adolescent rebellion—started dating a boy at school, a boy who wasn’t Italian. Donald Way, he was called; Scottish-American, a few years older than Donna, and from a poor family. Michael didn’t approve, and Elena only tolerated the relationship with an upturned nose and a gracefully arched eyebrow.

Straight out of high school, Donna married the boy and begged Michael to give him a job, to let him work for the Family. Michael flat-out refused. He dreaded to think how Frank would’ve reacted to his beloved Belladonna’s behavior. He forbade Donna from leaving the house, and after a full week’s worth of Elena playing the middleman, he grudgingly agreed to help Donald find an acceptable job— _outside_ the family, of course.

It wasn’t long until Gerard was born, and then Michael, three years later. The family’s domestic bliss was short-lived, however, when Donald had a fatal accident while out in his delivery truck.

Heartbroken, Donna fled the house to mourn in private, leaving the two boys with their grandparents. Elena took on the role of nurturing mother, and Michael was able to overlook the boys’ unfortunate heritage on their father’s side.

The boys weren’t alone, either. Their Aunt Maria had moved out of the house and married an Italian, Joe Staiano, who came from a reasonably high-profile family in New York. They had two young boys as well, Anthony and Marco; Anthony a year younger than Gerard, and Marco the same age as little Mikey. One of Michael’s caporegimi, a leader in the Family, Franco Iero, also had a son, Frank Jr.

The five boys, the youngest generation of the Family, became inseparable as they grew older; their age differences had little meaning to them, because they were part of a group, part of a gang. Part of the Family.

***


	2. part 1

While he was growing up, people called Frank Iero Jr. either Frank Jr., Frankie, or sometimes just plain Frank, because they usually called his dad Franco. He knew a few Italian words and phrases, and he could usually hold his own in the sprawling, good-natured family arguments.

Frank was used to the adults around him fighting. He had a large, _Italian_ family; it was only natural. For a lot of his childhood, he was split between two homes: that of his parents, and that of Papa Rush. He actually preferred Papa’s, if only because that’s where his cousins were. Frank’s parents fought all the time, anyway, and even Papa’s house, which always had more occupants than Frank could keep track of, wasn’t as full of anger.

All the adults Frank knew fought, though, which was why it was such a shock to him when his mother and father sat him down one day and announced that they were getting a divorce.

Frank left New Jersey with his mother and went to live with a man named Bradley Johnson and his four kids. Bradley—not Brad, _never_ Brad, so Frank made a point of calling him Brad at every opportunity—was a big guy, he looked like he’d played football in college, and he was blonde. His kids were named Jack, Brian, Amy, and Sarah, and they were all little carbon copies of him, even the twin girls. They were also exceedingly polite, got near-perfect grades in school, and played sports. Frank thought it was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen, and he said as much to his dad during one of their weekly phone calls.

A year and a half later—a year and a half of _torture_ , Frank later described it to the family—for Frank’s thirteenth birthday, his mother finally agreed to let Frank live with his father back in New Jersey.

Oddly, it was Gerard and Mikey Way who picked him up from the airport. They stood side by side at the terminal, Mikey staring down at the handheld video game he was playing, chatting idly while they waited. Gerard finally glanced up, noticed Frank standing uncertainly at the gate, and smiled. Frank saw him nudge Mikey in the side, but Mikey was engrossed in his game and didn’t look up. Frank started towards them, grinning. As soon as he was in range, Gerard pulled him into a tight hug, making Frank’s backpack slip off his shoulder and to the floor.

Mikey picked it up. “God, Frank, what the hell do you have in this thing?”

Frank reluctantly pulled out of Gerard’s warm embrace to look at Mikey. “Food. And a fuck-ton of CDs.”

Mikey’s face brightened. “Really? Sweet!”

Gerard brushed his fingers through Frank’s hair; it was cut into a mohawk that flopped across Frank’s forehead and was dyed black and white. “I like it,” he pronounced with a grin. “It’s very punk. Very you.”

Frank tossed his head back; he was proud of his hair. He’d cut and dyed it himself, without telling his mom first. He’d been grounded for a week.

Gerard’s hair, black as always, was hanging down to his chin. It looked a mess. “At least I can blame teenage rebellion,” he said. “What’s your excuse?”

Mikey looked almost exactly how Frank remembered him, though: streaky hair and glasses covering his eyes and his pointed chin buried in the collar of his coat.

“God,” Frank continued, exhaling loudly and slinging an arm over Mikey’s shoulder. “Those kids were so… ugh, _blonde_ , like you wouldn’t believe. I missed you guys.”

Gerard laughed and tugged the two younger boys into step behind him. “C’mon,” he said over his shoulder. “Vinnie’s waiting for us at Baggage Claim.”

“Awesome,” Frank replied. “Where’s my dad?”

“He’s working,” Gerard said shortly. He kept a hand on Mikey’s arm to keep him from bumping into things as they walked; Mikey’d turned his attention back to his game. “You can stay with us for a few days, okay?”

It was phrased like a question, but the way Gerard said it, it didn’t sound like one. Frank shrugged and nodded. He was just glad to be back with the people he knew and loved, back in a familiar environment. Back _home_.

***

As soon as Frank stepped inside the Rush house, he was attacked, pounced upon by Mark, and then by Mark and Tony’s mom, Maria, who tried to pinch his cheeks and smother him in kisses.

“Hi, Aunt Maria,” Frank mumbled as she ruffled his hair. “Yeah, I missed you, too. Jesus, Mark, get _off_ me!”

“Your hair looks stupid,” Mark said. He bounded away.

“Fuck you!” Frank shouted after him. Maria rolled her eyes, and Frank blushed and murmured an apology.

“Good to have you back, Frankie,” she replied warmly, ruffling his hair one last time before wandering after Mark.

“C’mon,” Gerard said quietly. Mikey and Vinnie had disappeared during the confusion. “You’re staying with Mikey. Let’s bring your stuff up.”

***

The boys quickly fell back into their old habits of causing happy mayhem around the house and at school. They went to the same Catholic high school, and even though they were all in different grades, they were as inseparable as ever during their free periods. It was just like old times. Almost.

While Frank had been away, Gerard had grown up. Tony had too, to a lesser extent. The two of them would often disappear into Gerard’s bedroom while Frank, Mark, and Mikey horsed around wreaking havoc.

That was mostly Frank and Mark, actually. Mikey stayed off to the side, watching them wrestle or listening to them bicker, and play his video games. Sometimes he jeered, egging them on from the sidelines, but he had always been more reserved than the others, even Gerard.

At school, though, Mikey was an entirely different person. Of the five of them, Mikey was the only one who had a wide circle of friends; freshmen like Frank and seniors like Gerard, girls and boys both. Frank was impressed, really, because he’d always thought of Mikey as kind of socially awkward.

Gerard, while not quite socially awkward, was definitely not a social butterfly. That was another weird thing, because even though Gerard had always been pretty introverted, at home he had a dramatic, exhibitionist streak a mile wide.

Frank stuck to Mikey like glue and made friends through him. It wasn’t a bad way to get through school; there was practically no effort required to be part of the popular crowd when he was around family. He just ignored the insults murmured in his direction when he was alone, walking the halls. Most of his classmates knew better than to mess with him. Messing with Frank meant messing with his family.

***

“‘Don’t listen to him,’ she says. Every time, she says that,” Gerard sighed, exhaling a long cloud of smoke and tapping his cigarette against the glass ashtray that sat on his bed, next to his foot. He had his legs crossed and his hoodie across his lap, flecks of ash littering the dark fabric. “‘Your father was a wonderful man.’”

When Gerard spoke in his mother’s accent, he sounded almost like a girl for real. Aunt Donna’s voice was stronger Italian than Jersey, while Gerard’s was the opposite. It sounded nice, though. Frank wanted to hear Gerard actually speak Italian.

“Was he?” Frank asked curiously. “I mean, was he a ‘wonderful man’ like she says?”

Gerard shrugged. “I don’t know, I barely remember the guy. Ma gets all weepy every time she talks about him, though, so I guess she loved him? Papa and Helena hated him, though. I know that much.”

He puffed on his cigarette again. Frank watched in fascination, savoring the smell in his nostrils. “Can I have a cigarette?” he asked hopefully, bouncing a little on the bed.

“No,” Gerard replied, chuckling deep in his throat. “You’re too young.”

“Am not!” Frank cried, realizing too late that the outburst made him sound even younger than he was. “Give me a cigarette or I’ll punch you in the face.”

“No, you won’t.” Gerard grinned and gestured towards the living room, where they could hear Mark and Tony shouting at each other. “Go punch Mark in the face, make him give you one.” His hand left a trail of smoke in the air as he moved.

Frank tumbled off the bed and made for the front hallway, shouting, “Mark! Give me a cigarette or I’ll punch you in the face!”

Mark was only kind of a bastard about it; he held his pack up high above his head, out of Frank’s reach, but Frank just climbed him and snatched it out of his hand. Mark let it go without a fuss. Frank decided he was the cool cousin, to which Mark replied, “Duh, dude.”

He went back into Gerard’s room after that, and Gerard tossed him his silver lighter. Frank clambered onto the bed and hunched over, shielding the feeble flame from the nonexistent wind.

Gerard gestured to Frank’s hands with the fingers holding his cigarette. “Not your first time, right?”

“Nah,” Frank said out of the side of his mouth. “I’ve stolen my dad’s cigs a few times before.”

Gerard let the subject drop. He seemed cool with letting a fourteen-year-old smoke on his bed, though, so maybe he was the cool cousin. Frank relayed these thoughts to Gerard, who laughed.

“I’m not your cousin,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah, I know.” Frank shrugged. “Whatever, man. Oh, hey, I wanted to ask you… Why do you call your grandma ‘Helena’?”

Gerard scooted back so he was leaning against the headboard. “I dunno,” he said. “I’ve heard people call her Helen, though, so I guess that stuck. Sort of. What can I say, dude, my brain’s a weird place.”

“Your brain’s an awesome place,” Frank corrected, looking around the bedroom. Gerard was in the process of redecorating: sketches and half-painted images covered the walls. Mostly of creepy stuff like bats and vampires and scary-ass houses on top of rocky mountains, but there was a unicorn in one corner that Gerard swore Mikey had requested. Knowing Mikey, Frank didn’t doubt him.

He glanced back at Gerard and caught him smiling. He shrugged off the compliment and said, “As long as you think so, Frankie.”

***

After graduating high school, Gerard started hanging out with Papa Rush while the rest of them were at class. He waited a year, until Tony graduated, and then the two of them moved to New York so Gerard could attend the School of Visual Arts. Frank didn’t really understand why Tony wanted to go with him, but he didn’t really care.

Mikey and Mark were in their senior year, and they, along with Frank, were the most well-known kids in the entire school. They earned reputations as partiers; Mikey could score pills from God-knows-where and Mark, with his fake ID, supplied the alcohol. Frank bounced between them, high on the freedom of being allowed to do pretty much anything he wanted without repercussions.

Frank didn’t really have any plans for what he was going to do after high school. Hell, he didn’t have any plans for next _weekend_. He knew Mikey, at least, was expected to go to college, but Frank and Mark didn’t have the same family duty.

Frank, not even a blood relative of Papa Rush, didn’t have anything to live up to except his father, who’d been arrested three times, each for a different crime, and Frank was already on his way to fulfilling that destiny: he’d been picked up once for shoplifting from a record store, once for driving while intoxicated, and a total of three times for defacing public property, all before his eighteenth birthday.

It was Gerard who finally gave Frank a plan. “You’re going to work for the family,” he said. At the time, Frank didn’t really understand. What Gerard meant was that he was going to work for the Family. Frank knew, of course, that Papa Rush was a powerful, rich man, and that his dad worked for him somehow, but he didn’t know what that _meant_.

About a month before Frank’s graduation, Gerard and Tony came home from their little rented apartment in New York. Frank’s dad picked him up from school, which was surprising in and of itself. Frank, thoroughly confused, just did as he was told.

“C’mon, kid,” Frank’s dad hissed, ushering him quickly out of the house. “We have an appointment.” Frank rolled his eyes and took the hangers his dad handed him. One had the white dress shirt Frank had worn once to his Confirmation, the second had a pair of black slacks that were frayed at the cuffs, and the third held one of Franco’s many dress shirts.

Frank didn’t know what they were doing at a tailor; they were pretty well-off, but they certainly couldn’t afford this place. Maybe the tailor downtown, with the sign that was falling apart, but this one had a man in a suit bringing them drinks while they waited.

Frank kept his mouth shut and stood obediently on the little platform while the tailor poked him with pins and chalk and whatever else. He found it slightly depressing that he still fit into his Confirmation shirt, but took comfort in the fact that it was a little bit tight in the sleeves.

His dad stood to the side and made casual conversation with the tailor, who seemed to know more about whatever formal occasion these clothes were needed for than Frank did. After they left the shop, Frank found the courage to ask what was up.

“Family meeting,” was all Franco would say. “You’re going to dress up, show up, and shut up, understand?” Frank nodded. “And get a haircut.”

“Dad!” Frank cried, one hand flying to his hair. It was shaped into a sort-of-mohawk, with the sides dyed red. He combed his fingers through it so that it fell awkwardly across his forehead. “Why do I need a haircut?”

“You look like a punk. You have to look respectable. Look decent for the next week and then do what you want, I don’t give a fuck. But you are not going to fuck this up for me, got it?”

***

Frank was led into the office by Uncle Joe, and his dad’s hand was tight and encouraging on his shoulder. The room was dark, and there were a few older guys standing or sitting against the walls. Joe sat down in the chair in front of the desk, leaving Frank and his father to stand beside him.

Papa Rush was sitting behind the desk with his fingers laced together, elbows on the desktop. Gerard was there, too, standing at his shoulder. He grinned at Frank; one side of his mouth was turned up more than the other, and it made him look almost smug. Frank clenched his jaw to keep from smirking back at him and settled for lifting his eyebrows once, quickly, in Gerard’s direction. They’d grown up together; Gerard would know what it meant.

“Frankie Iero,” Papa said, and Frank’s attention was forced back front and center. “Your father tells me you’re a pretty good shot.”

Frank blushed and hunched his shoulders a bit. His dad squeezed once, and he relaxed again. “Yeah, I guess, sir. I mean, I’ve been practicing. Dad and Johnny,” Frank nodded towards Johnny DeLuca, who was sitting off to the side, “have taken me to the range a few times.”

“Do you get into fights at school?”

“Um.” Gerard pinched his lips together and subtly nodded at him, and Frank said, “A few times, sir, yes.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes, sir.” Frank’s gaze flicked to Gerard, who rolled his eyes. Frank smirked at him.

Papa smiled and lowered his hands. “You’re a good boy, Frankie. Have a seat.” Frank and his father sat down on one of the couches lining the walls. The rest of the meeting was pretty boring, all the old guys talking about things that Frank didn’t really care about, and Frank amused himself by making faces at Gerard and trying to get him to laugh. He came close, a couple of times.

Gerard grabbed his wrist on their way out and pulled him towards the stairs. He led the way up to his bedroom and sat Frank down on the bed, then pulled over his desk chair and dropped into it.

“It was like a scene from _The Godfather_ in there,” Frank said.

Gerard laughed. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “How did I not know about all this? How long have you known?”

“I’ve known since I was a kid,” Gerard replied, shrugging. “But it’s different for me. I’m supposed to take over one day, y’know?”

“What about Mikey?”

“He knows, but it’s not really the same. He’s not expected to…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Frank rubbed his face. “This is just kind of surreal, y’know? I mean, it’s weird, but none of it’s that much of a stretch. Like, I always kind of knew, or something.”

“Yeah, well, if you grow up around it, it’ll just be like, the next logical step.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

Gerard nodded and went quiet, just staring at Frank.

“Um,” Frank said, to break the silence.

“When you graduate, you’re going to work for the family,” Gerard said. His voice was somehow different than it had been a second ago. Smoother, more confident. Frank also realized that Gerard wasn’t asking, and he wasn’t going to accept ‘no’ for an answer.

“Okay,” Frank whispered. It wasn’t like he even wanted to disagree. “Okay.”

***

Gerard and Tony went back up to New York after that and Mikey spent most of his time at college, though he still lived at home. After Frank graduated, he and Mark started going out with some of Papa’s best guys, his top button-men, people like Johnny DeLuca, to train. Papa insisted that they learn from the best.

Frank already knew how to use a handgun, but Johnny taught him where to shoot if you wanted to kill, or just hurt, or if you wanted them to die slowly. A large guy Frank only knew as Worm taught him to use switchblades and knives, and how to intimidate people with just a look. Worm’s friend Chris took Frank and Mark out to a gym, where they learned various fighting techniques.

Within a year, Johnny deemed them both good enough to go out and work on their own. Frank was a little disappointed that they weren’t given much to do, though. He’d never had to kill anyone, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to or not, but he didn’t appreciate being thought of as a kid, like he couldn’t handle it. He wanted to prove himself. His first tattoo, a band around his left bicep, read _Loyalty – Respect – Honesty_. He wanted to live up to that. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

“You _are_ a kid,” Mark said when Frank complained to him. He caught Frank around the middle and tackled him to the ground. Frank got in a few light jabs to Mark’s ribs. “Ow, fuck, Frankie!”

Frank squirmed out from under him and immediately jumped onto his back. “It just pisses me off,” he said, “‘cause I could totally do it.”

Mark sighed and stopped fighting. “I’m sure you will, eventually.”

***

Things were fine until Papa Rush fell ill.

“Gee, I think you should come home,” Frank whispered, listening carefully for the catch in Gerard’s breath. “You need to come home.”

“Where’s Mikey?”

“He’s here; he’s taking a few days off classes. Gerard, you need to—”

“We’ll be there tomorrow.” Gerard took a quick breath. “Frank, where’s Helena?”

“Just come _home_ , Gerard. She needs you. We all will.”

Gerard hung up the phone without another word, and Frank was left staring at the silent handset. It was as clear as day to him that Papa wasn’t going to make it, and he was scared. Gerard was only in his twenties, but he was next in line. He’d been trained for this, to take over, Frank knew that, but just because Gerard _needed_ to take over didn’t mean that he was ready to.

***

Frank waited for Gerard out in the hall, his eyes lowered out of respect for Maria and her sons, who were looking at each other in varying states of dejection. His own father had come in yesterday to pay his last respects, along with two of the other caporegimi, Johnny DeLuca and Salvatore Bertini.

Frank considered fleeing downstairs, but he thought Vinnie and Elena might be down there, and besides, he wanted to be there for Gerard and Mikey when they came out. It seemed weird, to him, that they were all just waiting around for Papa to die.

The door cracked open. Mikey slipped out, quickly wiping his eyes and resettling his glasses on the tip of his nose. Maria touched his shoulder. “He wants a priest,” Mikey mumbled.

“I’ll go,” Frank offered quickly. Someone had already called Father Russo; he was waiting in the living room. Frank flew down the stairs, carefully skirting around the kitchen, where he could hear Vinnie’s low, heavily accented voice. He didn’t go back up after fetching Father Russo. He didn’t think he’d be able to deal with all the crying family members.

He felt near tears himself. Papa Rush and Elena had practically raised him, and this was like losing one of his own grandparents. Frank threw himself onto the couch and curled up with his knees to his chest.

***

He woke up to Gerard’s hand on his back and he turned over quickly. Gerard’s eyes were rimmed in red, but dry. “Gee?”

“He’s gone,” Gerard breathed. “Would you come upstairs with me?”

Frank rolled up onto his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around Gerard’s neck. He felt Gerard’s chest expand and contract several times as he breathed in deeply. “Of course,” Frank whispered, but they didn’t move for what felt like several minutes. The house was silent to Frank’s ears. Everything was somehow indescribably different.

Gerard’s bedroom was dark and neither of them bothered to turn on the light. Gerard led Frank to the bed and they lay down side by side. Gerard’s pale skin seemed bright in the darkness, framed by his black hair and clothes. He looked tired. Frank couldn’t blame him.

“Where’s Mikey?” he whispered. “Have you told your mom?”

“Mikey’s talking to her now,” Gerard replied. “She’s gonna come home for the funeral.”

Frank thought Gerard’s mom was kind of crazy, and the rest of the family’s opinions supported that. She’d run away after their father died, and eventually moved to the family’s house in Sicily. She very rarely came back to New Jersey, and Frank had only ever met her a few times that he could remember. Frank wondered if she was planning on making amends with Elena.

As if reading Frank’s mind, Gerard added, “She’s not going to stay.” Frank nodded, and they fell quiet.

An indeterminate amount of time passed and Gerard’s eyes were closed; Frank thought he might’ve fallen asleep, but he wasn’t sure. Gerard’s body still seemed tense. Frank carefully put his hand on top of Gerard’s.

“Are you ready for this?” Frank breathed.

Gerard opened his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He turned his hand palm side up and squeezed three of Frank’s fingers. “Frank, I want you to be my consigliere.”

Frank waited for the punch line. When it didn’t come, he asked, “Um, what?” Gerard just stared at him. “You can’t be serious,” Frank said at long last.

“I am,” Gerard replied simply.

“Do you want people to hate you?”

“I know you, Frank. I trust you. I want you for this.”

“You’re insane,” Frank said. “I’m barely out of high school!”

“Vinnie’s going to advise me,” Gerard explained, “and Helena, but they won’t be around forever, and I want you next to me, Frank. My right-hand man. Will you do it?”

“Of course. Fuck, yeah, of course I will.”

“Good,” Gerard said, breaking into a weak smile. “After the funeral, we’ll talk, okay?”

Frank nodded and tilted his head towards the door. “Do you want me to go?”

“You don’t have to…” Gerard closed his eyes again.

Frank nodded again and squeezed Gerard’s hand. “I’ll stay.”

***

The funeral was surprisingly small, at Elena’s request, limited to only the closest family and a handful of important friends. Franco came, along with Johnny and Salvatore, and Vinnie, Papa Rush’s consigliere, and of course Maria and her family. Donna Way made a dramatic, tearful appearance for the ceremony, but after hugging and kissing her boys and paying her respects to Elena, she disappeared again. Elena didn’t voice her disapproval, but to Frank, it was obvious.

Gerard remained stoic and blank through the ceremony, his detached expression rivaling Mikey’s. He kept Frank at his side—his _right_ side, and Frank was sure nobody missed the meaning there—but he let Mikey wander. Tony moved into Mikey’s place at Gerard’s left for the majority of the time.

Back at the house, Frank’s dad approached him. “How are you holding up?” he asked. Frank was pretty much living at Papa’s house—he didn’t know what to call it, now that Papa was dead. Elena’s house? Gerard’s house?—though he still kept a room at his dad’s place. They hadn’t really had a chance to talk in several weeks.

“I’m okay,” Frank replied, glancing around for Gerard.

“And the Ways?”

“They’re holding up, I think.”

“Gerard?” Franco asked pointedly.

Frank bristled. “He’ll be fine.”

“Frank, Michael Rush was a powerful man—”

“Gerard will be fine, Dad,” Frank repeated. He caught Gerard’s eye from across the room. Gerard tilted his head towards the office door. “I have to go,” Frank said.

Gerard was already sitting down when Frank slipped into the room. He took a moment to examine the setting; he’d been in the office before, of course, but it was different, now. Vinnie and Elena were on the couch, Vinnie’s hand resting comfortingly on Elena’s forearm. Gerard sat opposite them, in one of the armchairs that were usually turned towards the desk. The space behind the desk was glaringly empty.

“Frankie,” Vinnie said quietly. He cocked his head at Frank. “Have a seat.”

Frank sat down quickly in the chair next to Gerard.

“People will be coming by the house,” Elena began. She readjusted her glasses on her nose and cleared her throat. “Both to pay their respects to Michael and to properly meet the new Don of the family. You can’t seclude yourself, Gerard. If you are going to take your place in this Family, you must do it now, and you must be sure.”

“I’m sure,” Gerard said.

Vinnie nodded. “You’re young, Gerard. Don’t take this the wrong way, but Elena and I are willing to help you. Advise you.”

“I understand.”

“Frank—”

“I want him as my consigliere,” Gerard broke in quickly.

Vinnie raised both eyebrows, but Elena just nodded. “No offense to either of you,” Vinnie began carefully, “but Frank is a fighter.”

“If you’re going to advise me, I want Frank to learn. He can act as my bodyguard.”

Frank felt trapped by Vinnie’s calculating gaze and Elena’s sad one. He was glad of Gerard’s confidence in him, but now it was something Frank had to live up to. Something _big_ to live up to. It made Frank nervous.

“It’s your decision,” Vinnie said after a lengthy pause. He glanced at Frank. “Has he talked to you about this?”

“He—he just asked,” Frank replied quietly.

“You’re a sharp kid, Frank. You can learn.”

“I will,” Frank said, and at the same time, Gerard said, “He will.”

Vinnie nodded. “Okay. You’ll have to choose an underboss—Mikey, obviously, but in name alone. I think we all know his feelings…” he trailed off pointedly. “Take some time,” he continued, when Gerard nodded. “Learn your men. Figure out who would be best for you, for your second in command. I’ll help you with this.”

“Look to the caporegimi,” Elena added. “They know how to run the business, they have experience.”

“You have time to make your decisions,” Vinnie reiterated. “We just want you to be prepared. Everyone will have questions, and you need to be ready to answer them. Build your trustworthiness; tread carefully at first. You can’t fill Michael’s shoes right away; you must step into them gradually.”

“People will be looking to you to lead the family,” Elena said, “but they won’t want you. Let them get accustomed to the change before you try to do anything drastic.”

Ten minutes later, Frank and Gerard were left alone in the office. Frank hadn’t spoken during the entire second half of the meeting, and he broke his silence now, saying, “You shouldn’t do anything drastic.” Frank took a breath, unsure if it was his place to say these things. Gerard made a questioning noise that Frank took as encouragement. “You’re a smart guy, okay? You’re fucking brilliant. I know that you’ll be a good Don, ‘cause you’re good at anything you put your mind to. But Gee, your grandpa was really fucking good at what he did.”

Gerard nodded slowly. “Just follow his business model, basically?”

“Yeah,” Frank replied. “I think, when his dad died, he really changed things up fast, and now Vinnie’s expecting you to do the same. But he knew what he was doing, so I think you should just learn from that. At least at first.”

“Try not to change things up too much. Stick with what works,” Gerard finished, gesturing vaguely. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

“People won’t trust you, if you do spread your wings too quickly, y’know? Vinnie and Elena are right; let people get used to you first. Give them time to learn to trust you.”

Gerard smiled. “I knew you’d be a good advisor.”

Frank blushed. “I’m your bodyguard, Gerard. And come on, it was nothing you weren’t already thinking.”

“Trusted advisor-slash-bodyguard,” Gerard teased. “No, but seriously, Frank. You’re going to be good at this. We both will. I just want to… Thank you.”

***

In the next two weeks, Frank learned more than he thought possible to know about the Family. He sat with Gerard and Elena as men came in to pay their respects to the previous Don, and Elena filled them in on each person’s background, what they did for the Family, and how trustworthy they had been to Papa Rush. In a rare quiet moment, she teased that she knew more about how the business was run than Papa or Vinnie did, just because of the gossip she shared with the other wives and mothers.

Vinnie showed Frank the files he kept on various politicians and business associates, and said that Frank and Gerard would need to work out some kind of system of their own for sharing information without incriminating people they couldn’t afford to offend.

Frank met with the men who got things done, Johnny and his button-men, including Worm and Chris. They gave Frank a basic run-down of how things worked, who followed whose orders, and how information was passed in secret.

All of the new faces started to blend together for Frank, names lost in a blur of Italian that all sounded the same, and he was exhausted. Gerard had all this to deal with and more. Frank didn’t know how he was staying sane.

Everything was happening so quickly that Frank began to lose confidence that he and Gerard would be able to manage everything on their own.

***

Mark, as always, kept things in perspective by tackling Frank to the ground and throwing weak punches.

“You don’t have to do it on your own,” he said, panting heavily. “Grandma and Vinnie are still gonna help out, and I think Gerard’s telling Tony a lot of stuff, too. Tony’s good at that kind of intellectual shit. Gee probably should’ve picked him as consigliere.”

Frank threw Mark off and kneed him in the stomach. “Shut up. He chose me. I can totally do it.”

“Sure, whatever,” Mark agreed easily. He was likely to agree to anything as long as Frank’s knee was in the vicinity of his crotch. They wrestled for a few more minutes, until Mark said, “Alright, dude, you win. Let’s go get a fucking drink.”

Frank hopped to his feet and reached down to give Mark a hand, thinking about what he’d said. It was true that Tony was more suited to this consigliere thing than he was, so why had Gerard chosen him? Frank couldn’t deny that he liked the feeling of being singled out by Gerard, because Gerard was like an amazing older brother and Frank looked up to him, but there was really no reason for Gerard to choose Frank over Tony.

Mark hit him on the shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. “You driving?”

Frank dug into his pocket for his keys. “Sure.”

***

At their usual club, they ran into Mikey and Tony. Mikey was at a table with another guy and three girls, none of which were Alicia. Frank rolled his eyes and headed for Tony’s booth near the back. He was sipping a Coke through a straw.

“Designated driver,” he said when Frank raised an eyebrow. Mark laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder, then headed for the bar.

Frank followed a few seconds later, because he was sure that Mark wouldn’t get him a beer. By the time he got the bartender’s attention, Mark had already found a group of people he knew. Frank gave Tony an apologetic look and went over to them.

Brian Schechter and Gabe Saporta were the only ones Frank knew personally, but he recognized two of the other guys from hanging out with Mark in high school. Gabe kissed him sloppily on the cheek.

Brian glanced down at the beer in Frank’s hand. “How’d you get in here? You aren’t 21.”

“What, you never heard of a fake ID?” Gabe asked, grinning. He squeezed Frank’s shoulders once and then said, “I need to talk to Mikeyway, where is he?”

Frank pointed Gabe in the right direction, then turned to Brian. “I know the owner.” The owner was actually Gabe’s father, and Frank and the others had been coming in here since they were in their teens.

Brian shrugged and went back to whatever he’d been talking about before Frank arrived. Frank listened for a while, but he wasn’t really following any of the conversations around him. He tapped Mark on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna head home, catch a ride with Tony and Mikey, okay?”

He didn’t really feel like getting drunk tonight, and he was thinking about maybe asking Gerard… No, he couldn’t do that. Gerard must have his reasons. Frank told himself not to dwell on it.

***

Frank was half-asleep in the room he shared with Mikey when he felt something touch his arm. He flinched and jerked his arm away, sure that some creepy bug had been crawling on him, but it was only Gerard.

“Are you asleep?”

Obviously not anymore. Frank rolled his eyes and shook his head. Across the room, Mikey snored.

“C’mere,” Gerard whispered. He pulled on Frank’s hand, leading him out of the bedroom and across the hall to his own room. Frank glanced back at Mikey as they tiptoed out, hoping they weren’t being loud enough to wake him up. He was a notoriously light sleeper, except when he was drunk, but judging by the fact that he and his cousins had only come home an hour ago, Mikey was probably very drunk. Frank closed the door behind him and followed Gerard into the other room.

“Hey,” he said, tugging Frank towards the bed. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Sure, okay,” Frank whispered, crawling up on his knees. Gerard sat cross-legged with his back to the headboard. “What’s up?”

“You’ve never killed anyone before, have you?”

“No,” Frank replied, his brow creasing. “Not yet, anyway.”

“I want you to go out with Worm tomorrow,” Gerard said. “Are you ready for that?”

Frank nodded. He wasn’t actually sure if he was ready, and it was kind of a big deal, but if Gerard wanted him to kill someone, then he would fucking kill someone.

“Have you ever—”

“I’ve never had anyone killed before.”

“Does he deserve it?” Frank asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then I’ll do it.”

“Do you want to know why?”

Frank hesitated. He did want to know, but he didn’t want anything he learned to bite him in the ass and make him feel guilty later. Gerard waited patiently, his eyes wide and bright in the darkness. Finally, Frank shook his head.

“If I need to know anything, you’ll tell me, right?”

Gerard nodded. “If you need to know.”

Gerard rubbed his knuckles over the back of Frank’s hand. “I should let you go back to bed,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s fine,” Frank said. “I wasn’t really asleep.” His fingers twitched beneath Gerard’s hand. He debated asking Gerard why he asked Frank to be his consigliere; the question was on the tip of his tongue, but then Gerard tapped his hand again and seemed to decide that their conversation was over.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

Frank slid off the bed and waved goodnight.

***

It wasn’t anything like Frank thought it would be, watching the life drain from someone’s eyes. He fought the urge to drop the gun—it was still smoking in his hand; he could still hear the shot ringing in his ears—and frantically wipe his hand clean on the thigh of his jeans.

Worm let the guy fall to the floor, a limp, lifeless body, and nodded approvingly at Frank.

Frank stared back. He hadn’t blinked since he pulled the trigger.

Worm came over to him and took the gun from his hand, flicked the safety back on and put it back in the shoulder holster Frank was wearing. He patted Frank on the back and said quietly, “You did good, kid.”

Frank nodded. Worm led him out of the dingy apartment, muttering something about sending someone back to take care of the body. Frank had killed someone. Gerard had told him to, so he’d done it.

Gerard had a reason. Frank didn’t know what it was, but it was compelling enough for Gerard to want this guy dead. Frank trusted Gerard’s opinion. Frank blinked and took a breath. He grinned at Worm. He’d just killed someone. Worm caught his expression and smiled back.

“Nice shot.”

“Thanks.”

***

Mark congratulated him heartily, smiling and teasing like normal, but Frank could see in Mark’s eyes that he didn’t want that for himself. Mark wasn’t ready for that. Frank felt a surge of pride; he’d stepped up, he’d been ready at Gerard’s request, and he would do it again.

Frank started going out with Worm and Chris more often. He killed three more people. It got easier every time.

***

Frank and Gerard were out on one of their usual coffee runs, Gerard ensconced in a booth in the corner while Frank waited at the counter for their order. Gerard had brought his sketchbook out, and Frank watched as he flipped through it, looking for a blank page. The barista handed him their two coffees and Frank carried them over to the low table with sugars and creams and napkins. He was in the middle of adding a second packet of sugar to his own cup when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Frank glanced at Gerard before answering.

“Frankie, where are you?” Tony asked. “Is Gerard there?”

“Yeah, we went out for coffee. What’s up?”

“Frankie,” Tony said, and it was weird because Tony rarely used the nickname and he’d just used it twice in a row. “Elena’s dead.”

Frank’s phone slipped out of his grasp, clattering down to the table, where it knocked against his cup and made it slosh over the side. Gerard raised his eyebrows but Frank ignored him. He picked up the phone again and said, in a very measured voice, “What happened?”

“Heart attack,” Tony explained. “We called an ambulance but it was too late. It was about half an hour ago. Will you tell him?”

“Where are you?” Frank asked. He wanted to take Gerard home, but not if it was going to be a circus.

“We’re at the hospital,” Tony replied. “Me and Vinnie, and Mikey’s on his way here with Mark. Johnny’s still at the house, with Joey and Pete, but that’s it.”

“I’m taking Gee home,” Frank decided. “I’ll tell him there.”

“I’ll call ahead and tell them not to get in your way.”

Frank flipped his cell closed and braced his arms on the table, allowing himself a moment for the information to sink in. Elena was dead, and he had to break it to Gerard. Frank took a deep breath to regain his composure.

He turned back to Gerard and held his hand out to help Gerard up. “We’re going home,” he said shortly. “C’mon.”

“What about the coffee?” Gerard asked, his brow wrinkling. “You wanted to get out for—”

“We have to leave, Gerard, just come with me and don’t argue.” Frank knew he sounded bitchy, and that Gerard wasn’t used to taking orders, but he couldn’t keep himself in check. He grabbed Gerard’s hand and pulled him to his feet, then put his other hand at Gerard’s waist to steady him. He didn’t let go of Gerard’s hand.

“Frank, what’s going on?” Gerard asked quietly. His hand tensed and Frank gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll tell you at home, okay?” Frank answered under his breath.

“Frank.”

“Just wait until we’re home, Gerard, please.”

They walked back to the car in silence and neither of them seemed to want to let go of the other’s hand. Frank’s behavior was probably only making Gerard more nervous, but Frank didn’t know how else to act. He continued the silence as he drove them home. He could feel the weight of Gerard’s heavy gaze on him.

As soon as they were inside the house, Gerard caught him by the shoulder and whispered his name in an urgent undertone. Frank couldn’t keep the information to himself any longer.

“Tony called me, Gerard. He’s at the hospital. Elena had… she had a heart attack—”

“Frankie, oh god—”

“She’s gone, Gerard.”

“Oh my god.” Frank could almost sense Gerard’s knees going weak and he pulled Gerard into a tight embrace. They fell to the floor anyway, tangled together. Gerard was completely silent. Frank felt him drawing in deep breaths.

“I need to—”

“They’re taking care of it.”

“I can’t—I don’t know—”

“It’s gonna be okay, Gee. C’mon, let’s get you out of the hall, okay? It’ll be alright.”

“No, it won’t,” Gerard moaned. “Oh god.”

“Gee, shh, Gerard, c’mon, Gerard, shhh,” Frank soothed gently. He rubbed both hands up and down Gerard’s back; he could feel Gerard shaking. “Let’s get out of the hall, Gee, c’mon.”

***

Gerard didn’t talk to anyone at the funeral, not even Frank or his cousins. Both he and Mikey were silent, standing side by side at the front of the group while Elena’s coffin was lowered into the ground. Frank watched them closely, ready to do anything they needed. He saw Mikey slip his hand into Gerard’s pocket and pull Gerard’s hand out. Mikey squeezed once, tightly, and held on. Neither of them moved until long after the others had gone.

Frank sat down in the grass near another gravestone and watched as Gerard knelt by the fresh grave. Mikey stroked his hand through Gerard’s hair and rested it on his shoulder, a silent comfort. Frank wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying—he wasn’t sure they were saying anything at all.

***

When they got back to the house, Gerard started towards the stairs immediately. Frank touched his arm and whispered, “Gee, you need to—”

“Take care of it,” Gerard replied shortly. “I can’t.”

“Gerard,” Frank said seriously, “people are waiting for you to—”

“Take care of it, Frankie,” Gerard hissed.

Frank didn’t want to force him, so he let Gerard go. There were men and women in the lounge waiting to express their condolences, offer Gerard their apologies and guidance, and someone needed to deal with them. Frank straightened his shoulders and breathed deeply. Apparently that someone was him.

***

Gerard didn’t come out of his room for three days. He didn’t let Frank in, and he only spoke to Mikey through the door. Frank was running himself thin trying to fulfill Gerard’s duty to the Family, a job he didn’t even know how to do, and Gerard wouldn’t even see him.

Frank thought it was selfish of him—they’d all experienced loss, they all needed time to grieve, but Gerard was taking his self-imposed isolation to entirely new levels. Frank hadn’t even had a spare moment to himself. No time at all to cry for Elena.

Which is why he had a minor meltdown at the breakfast table with Tony and Mikey sitting on either side of him.

“It’s not fair,” he cried. “I can’t do this by myself. I’m not supposed to do this. I can’t.”

“Frankie,” Mikey said tiredly.

“Your brother is being a fucking asshole,” Frank shot back, turning to him and glaring. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, I wish I could, but I _can’t_.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Tony broke in quietly. “We’re all dealing with—”

“No, you’re not,” Frank said shortly. “I’m dealing with it. I’m dealing with _everything_. Because Gerard won’t.”

“Gerard _can’t_ ,” Mikey hissed.

“Then why does he think I can?” Frank shouted. He felt tears sliding down his cheeks but he ignored them. Wiping his eyes would be like admitting he was crying. Crying in front of Mikey and Tony, crying like a fucking baby, and it was Gerard’s fucking fault.

“I’m not as good as him,” Frank continued tearfully. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

“Frankie,” Tony said, and put his arm around Frank’s shoulders. “It’s okay, we’re gonna help you, all of us. You don’t have to do everything.”

Frank bit back the instinctive response: _I need to_. Gerard had told him to take care of everything, and that’s what he was trying—and failing—to do. The knowledge that he couldn’t do it, that he couldn’t make things better, was almost a harder blow than Elena’s death.

“I’ll talk to Gee,” Mikey murmured.

“Yeah,” Tony replied stiffly. “You need to.”

Frank let Tony pull him into a hug and once Mikey was gone, he turned his head, pressed his nose into the rumpled collar of Tony’s shirt, and cried.

***

“Gerard?” Frank asked quietly. He sat down with his back against Gerard’s door. He’d fall if Gerard opened it, but Frank doubted Gerard would just open the door after three days. “Gee, are you there?”

“I’m sorry, Frank,” came the muffled reply. “Mikey—”

“I can’t do this without you,” Frank said, cutting him off. He didn’t want to hear about Mikey telling Gerard that Frank burst out crying in the kitchen for no apparent reason.

“Frankie, I’m sorry, Frank,” Gerard said, and he was closer to the door now, his voice was louder. He was slurring. Frank realized with sudden clarity that Gerard was drunk.

He tried the doorknob, but as expected, it was locked. “Gee, open the door,” he said.

“No, I can’t…”

“Gerard—”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gerard admitted slowly. Frank heard a thump and the door shook for a moment; he assumed Gerard had just sat down against it on the other side.

“Gerard,” Frank said, pressing his hand to the smooth wood. “Gerard, please, let me in.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Gerard continued as if he hadn’t heard Frank. Maybe he hadn’t. “I never learned… what to do, Frankie. I just can’t. Not like this. I’m… I don’t know how.”

“This is hard for all of us, Gee,” Frank murmured. “Please come out, I’ll help you. Me and Tony and Mikey, and all the other guys, we’ll help. Please, Gerard.”

“No.” There was a scratching noise and then retreating footsteps. “I can’t do it.”

“Gerard. Gerard! Gee, _please_!” Frank cried, but Gerard was gone.

***

“We need to do something,” Tony said quietly.

“He won’t talk to me. He’s on some fucking epic bender or something, I don’t even know—”

“Has he even eaten anything in the past week?”

“Mikey’s giving him food, I think,” Frank sighed. He put his head down on the table. “And alcohol, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah, like he needs more of that. Shit, Frank, this is—”

“It’s bad, yeah, I realize that, Tony,” Frank snapped. Tony glared at him. “Sorry.”

“Everyone’s looking for some kind of leadership—”

“And Gerard’s not giving it,” Frank finished. “There’s not much we can do about it at the moment, if he won’t even see us. _Shit_.”

“I think we should just take over for a little while,” Tony whispered.

“What?” Frank asked. He raised his head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re the consigliere, Frank.”

“I’m not—”

“Yeah, sure, Vinnie’s the guy, but Frank, you’re the one who knows what’s going on.”

“Tony, I can’t do—”

“No, I know,” Tony said quickly. He put his hand on Frank’s arm. “Frank, listen. Gerard hasn’t done anything to the system, yet. Why don’t we just… take care of things ourselves?”

“Because we have no idea what we’re doing?” Frank asked skeptically.

“Neither does Gerard,” Tony replied pointedly. “We should talk to the main guys, the caporegimi. They’ll know how to handle things until Gerard can deal with… life again.”

Frank hesitated. It seemed too much like pulling the rug out from under Gerard’s feet, taking over without his blessing. “We should talk to him…” he hedged.

“He won’t listen, Frank,” Tony said sharply. “Something needs to be done, and we’re the only ones who can.”

Frank stared down at his hands for a long few minutes, thinking hard about what his decision would mean. Gerard might resent him for it. It was a betrayal, of sorts, even if they were only working in the Family’s best interests. On the other hand, Gerard might be grateful. He obviously wasn’t prepared to take over completely, he’d said as much to Frank’s face, and his recent behavior confirmed everything Gerard hadn’t said. He wasn’t ready. It was up to Frank.

He nodded.

***

The first meeting Johnny DeLuca controlled was awkward in all the wrong ways. Johnny wasn’t bad, was the problem. Frank shifted in his seat nervously; Johnny knew how to sweet-talk people, how to put on a show of politeness and caring even though Frank knew he didn’t, really. Johnny was good at pretending. Where Gerard was genuine, Johnny could fake it.

It made Frank uncomfortable, seeing the man run the Family like a pro. It was as if Johnny had been trained to take over, and in a way, he kind of had. Johnny DeLuca had been Papa Rush’s underboss; he’d managed whatever Papa hadn’t had time to deal with.

It was disconcerting how easily Johnny slipped into the commanding role, and Frank didn’t like to watch him in Gerard’s position. The office was locked, so Johnny conducted meetings from the study near the back of the house, but it still set Frank on edge.

He stopped going to the meetings.

Instead, Frank sat outside Gerard’s door, or paced the hallway, or shared miserable looks with Tony in the kitchen. Tony seemed to feel the same way about Johnny that Frank did, and they often just shrugged at each other in mutual uncertainty. They’d done what they’d had to do.

***

The day Gerard finally opened his door to Frank, it was raining and miserable outside and the house was quiet, everyone too sapped by the weather to speak loudly or even move around much at all. Frank sat with his back against Gerard’s door, a comic book propped on his knees, but he wasn’t reading. He was listening to the soft patter of rain on the windows, and waiting—hoping—for some sign of life from Gerard.

The door opening nearly gave Frank a heart attack. He jerked upright and whipped around. Gerard was on his knees, eye-level with Frank, and peering out at him through the small crack. The room behind him was dark, the curtains over the windows drawn.

“You’re here,” Gerard whispered, and Frank detected a note of surprise.

“Of course I am,” he replied, his voice equally quiet. “Are you okay?”

Gerard looked horrible. His eyes were red, but not like he’d been crying. Frank was sure he had been crying, but apparently not recently. He looked hungover, miserable, glassy-eyed exhausted. His hair was greasy and stringy and sticking up at odd angles over Gerard’s ears.

He shook his head. Frank nudged the door open a bit more and saw that Gerard was wearing the black button-down shirt he’d worn to the funeral and a pair of stained sweatpants.

“Can I come in?” Frank asked hesitantly.

“Okay,” Gerard said. He backed away from the door and Frank went in on his hands and knees. Gerard closed the door behind them and they both sat in front of it. “I’m glad you’re here,” Gerard said.

“Gee,” Frank began. The room was stuffy and desperately needed to be aired out. The mattress was bare, all the sheets and blankets lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Frank wasn’t sure if Gerard had been sleeping on the mattress or the pile of bedclothes. Either way, it surely wasn’t comfortable. “Gerard,” Frank tried again. His throat felt clogged and he could sense that his voice was going to break when he next spoke, so he stayed quiet.

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Gerard said. He looked heartbroken, apologetic and earnest in a way that only Gerard could manage.

Frank leaned forward and wrapped both arms tightly around Gerard’s neck. “You asshole,” he whispered. He broke down into tears, then, and cried into Gerard’s shoulder for a few minutes. Partly out of grief, but partly out of relief at Gerard finally, _finally_ welcoming him back in.

“I can’t do it, Frank,” Gerard continued. “I can’t do what they did.”

“Yes, you can, Gee,” Frank replied instantly. He wiped his eyes quickly and leaned back. “We need you to. I know you can.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gerard protested. “I can’t just wing it.”

“Gerard. Gerard. I need you, okay, I need to you to do this. I know you can. You can do fucking anything, Gee, come on. Just—just—Gerard, just try, please, I need you to try, at least,” Frank said desperately.

“I want to,” Gerard said. “But it’s not enough.”

“It is,” Frank insisted.

“I’ll do it wrong.”

“Your Family’s counting on you, Gee,” Frank said. “I’m counting on you. Please try, Gerard. Please. I’ll help you, you won’t be alone. Gerard. I need you out there.”

“You don’t need me—”

“I do, Gee,” Frank said pleadingly. “Johnny’s trying to do your job, and it’s just not right, Gee, please, come out and do what you were fucking born to do.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank snapped. “I can’t deal with this bullshit right now. Gerard, listen to me. I need you to eat. I need you to take a motherfucking shower. And I need you to get out of this room and do your fucking job, Gerard.”

Gerard didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. Frank stared back, holding his breath, wondering if he’d pushed too far. He wanted to just give Gerard a hug—he looked like he needed one—but Frank suspected that wasn’t what would get Gerard out of his bedroom.

His instincts paid off. Gerard looked down at his hands and nodded mutely, the very picture of contrition. Frank grabbed Gerard into a hug.

“The world didn’t end, Gee,” he whispered into Gerard’s ear, “but it might, without you.”

“Idiot,” Gerard said fondly.

“I need you, Gee.”

Gerard sniffed and rubbed his nose on Frank’s shoulder. “Okay.”

***


	3. part 3

“We lost Mario,” Frank said to Gerard, sinking into his usual place on the sofa. Gerard’s head shot up and he stared at Frank with a shocked expression.

“You’re kidding me,” he said.

Frank shook his head. “I just got word from Tony. He was found washed up in the lake, three shots to the chest.”

“Oh, fuck,” Gerard groaned. He covered his face with his hands. “These bastards are getting bold.”

“They’re going to be after you directly, soon,” Frank said warningly. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “They’re just picking off all the guys they know are on your side.”

“We need to strengthen security,” Gerard murmured. “Everybody we have on our side, we need them protected. Who do we have—”

“John, Matthew, and Lorenzo are all strong behind you,” at least Frank hoped so, “and they all should have their own security. We can’t really spare anyone,” Frank said. “We basically have me, Mark, Johnny, Chris, and Worm here at home. Tony’s sticking close to Mikey, so he’s in and out. Pete’s not good enough with a gun to count, and neither is Danny.”

Gerard sighed. “Do you think that’s enough for the house?”

Frank shrugged. “Maybe. You should know I’m sticking to you like glue, though.”

“Thanks.” Gerard lowered his hands and gave Frank a small smile. “I’ll send word out to the guys you mentioned, tell them to keep an eye out.”

Frank nodded and leaned back again while Gerard was scribbling down notes. After a moment, he asked, “Do you have any idea who’s behind it, yet?”

“No,” Gerard answered without looking up. “I’ve got Alex and Tom trying to dig around, but so far they haven’t found anything. I’m a little worried about how deep they’re having to go…”

Frank stood up and went over to Gerard’s desk. He tilted his head to look at the notes, but he couldn’t read Gerard’s hasty scrawl. He put his hand on Gerard’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

***

Frank was used to Gerard’s nighttime visits, and he waited up until Gerard either came into his room or he heard Gerard go to bed in the room next door. He could tell Gerard was doubting himself more and more, and their late-night chats were becoming more frequent. Frank studied the paintings on the walls and ceiling while he waited, glad that Gerard hadn’t painted over them when Frank moved into the room.

He heard people moving around out in the hall and listened carefully, but it was only Tony and Mark bickering as they headed for bed. Frank sighed. Gerard probably wouldn’t even think about going to bed for another hour. Frank should really wait up with him, down in his office.

He was actually halfway to the door, his mind made up to join Gerard and maybe bring him a midnight snack, when Gerard opened the door and looked in.

“Oh! Frank.”

“Hi,” Frank replied, his heart racing. He hadn’t heard Gerard in the hallway. “I was about to come down to your office.”

“Oh. I was on my way to bed… Just wanted to see if you were up.”

“I am.”

“I see that.”

Frank stepped closer to the door and pulled it open far enough for Gerard to slip inside. “Come in,” he said, nudging Gerard towards the bed.

“I need to send Mario’s mother flowers,” Gerard murmured.

Frank rubbed his back for a few seconds, then sat down beside him. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“I’ve talked to John and Matt recently, but Lorenzo—”

“Tony talked to one of his guys,” Frank interrupted. “Joey. He said that you have Lorenzo’s full support.”

“I should talk to him,” Gerard said. “It’s not that I don’t trust Tony, I mean, he’s family, but—”

“Yeah, I know.”

Gerard nodded and fell silent. Frank rubbed his back again, and he seemed to take comfort in it. “Are they really all I have on my side?” he asked finally, his voice low.

“You have Johnny and my dad,” Frank whispered, though he didn’t know for sure how much Gerard trusted his father. “And Bertini and that other guy, Tatollia.”

“I just wish I knew who was against me,” Gerard sighed. “It’s so much easier to fight when I can see who I’m fighting.”

That was something Frank fully agreed with. He leaned against Gerard. “We can talk to some people tomorrow, if you want. And you should call in Alex and Tom; find out how things are going. If they’re being really sneaky, then it might take a while, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Gerard agreed. “You’re right. I’ll see if they can come in. I need to go write that down.”

Frank put his arm around Gerard’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “Don’t forget to sleep, okay?”

Gerard smiled. He looked exhausted. “I’ll try not to.”

***

Tony and Mikey were gone by the time Frank woke up the next morning. Frank went downstairs and found Mark refilling the coffee pot. Gerard wasn’t awake yet. Frank sat down at the kitchen table and waited for coffee to appear in front of him, which it did after a few minutes.

“Thanks,” he murmured sleepily.

“I’m on my second cup already,” Mark replied, and sat down beside him. “Mikey got up at the ass-crack of dawn this morning, and Tony started bitching to him and they woke me up.”

Frank breathed in the steam from his mug and wondered if he could ingest caffeine that way. It wasn’t really helping to wake him up, though, so he doubted it. “Where did they go?” he asked.

“I think he went to see Alicia. Tony didn’t want him going out alone, so they fought about that for a while, and then Tony just went with him.”

“Did she take him back?”

Mark shrugged. “I don’t know. I think he’s still trying to sweet-talk her.”

“He should stop being an asshole, if he wants her back.”

“I don’t think he actually fucked those girls, though…”

“That’s what I mean, though,” Frank said, putting his cup down. “He should just say that and… Ugh, I don’t know. Is that even what Alicia’s pissed about?”

Mark was shaking his head before Frank even finished the question. “I mean,” he began, “I’m sure she’s not happy about that, but Tony’s been telling me some of the stuff they talk about…”

Frank waited. “And?”

“It’s mostly Gerard, I think,” Mark finished quietly. “The Family, what we do, everything. She doesn’t like it and Mikey won’t give it up.”

Frank glanced towards the door to make sure they were alone. The house was silent; it was still early. “Mikey doesn’t even do anything for Gerard, though. And Gerard doesn’t want to force him.”

“I think… I think he wants out. Like, completely out. I think that’s what he keeps telling Alicia, but he’s not moving out of the house, he’s not swearing never to see his brother again, he’s not cutting himself off from the rest of us—”

“Is that what she wants him to do?” Frank asked incredulously. “Jesus Christ.”

Mark waved him off. “No, I’m sure it’s not that extreme. It’s just that she doesn’t trust him, I think, because he’s not… He can’t show her what we see—”

“That he’s not really a part of the Family.”

“She’s on the outside; she doesn’t know what we know.”

Frank sighed and sipped his coffee. “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess,” he said finally.

“Has Mikey talked to Gerard about her?”

Frank shook his head. “Not that I know of. Gerard’s a little preoccupied right now, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, dude, what the hell is going on?” Mark asked, pushing his mug aside so he could lean on the table.

“People want him dead,” Frank answered simply. Mark scoffed but Frank ignored him. “He’s probably going to tell you and Tony about it later today.”

***

Frank didn’t actually get to see whether Gerard told the others about the situation, because Gerard gave him a list of names and addresses and murmured in his ear, “Send a message, Frankie.”

He looked at Gerard questioningly, and Gerard added, “Take Worm and Johnny with you, and be careful. I’m sure you’ll know what to say.”

That was all Frank needed to hear. Gerard wanted the people on this list gone.

Johnny drove. Frank rattled off the addresses from the passenger seat and stared at the names, trying to figure out if he recognized any of them. Only one sounded familiar, and it wasn’t anyone Frank knew personally. The list had eight names on it, total, and Frank knew instinctively that these eight weren’t the only ones that Gerard intended to deal with. He’d never ordered such a large-scale hit before, but the look Gerard had given him told Frank that this wasn’t even close to the end.

The three of them took the job in turns, but even so, by the fourth name on the list, Frank was exhausted and sore and bleeding in three places. On their way back home, Worm driving this time, Frank passed out in the back seat.

He woke up when Worm laid him down on the sofa in the lounge, and Mark was standing behind him with a washcloth to clean up their various injuries. Johnny was sporting bruised knuckles, but that was all. Worm was better off than Frank, at least, and only had a gash on his shoulder.

Frank’s hands were bloody, his chest and arms were mottled with bruises, and he had a cut on his thigh. His neck was also bleeding, and he wasn’t quite sure how that happened, but it wasn’t deep. He could just slap a band-aid on it and he’d be fine.

“Do you think we should call Bryar?” Mark asked Worm, bending over Frank to dab at the wound on his thigh. “This looks kind of deep…”

Worm looked over and poked Frank’s leg with his finger. “Frankie, how’s this feel?”

“Ow,” Frank replied bitterly. It didn’t hurt too badly.

“He’ll be fine. I don’t think it needs stitches.”

Mark nodded and retrieved a gauze pad from somewhere, and proceeded to clean and tape up Frank’s leg. “Did you do everything you needed to do?” he asked.

Frank nodded. “Tell Gerard?”

“I’ll go get him,” Johnny said from the doorway.

Frank closed his eyes and let Mark clean him up. When he opened them, Gerard was kneeling next to the couch, and Mark and Johnny were gone. Worm was sitting in one of the armchairs across the room.

“You alright?” Gerard asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His arms ached and his leg was probably going to hurt for a while, and his stomach felt like it wouldn’t hold anything he dared to put in it, but it was nothing too serious. “They didn’t go without a fight.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “I can tell.”

“We got them all.”

“Johnny said.”

“Are there more?”

“Not for you,” Gerard answered, shaking his head. He smiled. “Don’t fuck yourself up too bad, okay? I’ll send some other guys out to fight the next round.”

“I can—”

“I want you here with me,” Gerard said firmly. Frank nodded and didn’t argue.

***

The next day, Frank was in forced recovery, lounging around in Gerard’s office with a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water at his side. He really liked being in Gerard’s office and working with him, but he hated that it hurt to move. Gerard eventually pulled a chair up next to the couch and worked from there, using the end table as a makeshift desk.

“Assuming we need some outside people,” Gerard began, “who can we get that, one, knows about the business, two, will be willing to help us, and three, will actually be useful?”

“Off the top of my head?”

“I’ve already got Saporta and Stump.”

“Um…” Frank leaned up and took a drink, for once not spilling all over his chin. “Brian Schechter, do you remember him from high school? He’s friends with Gabe and Jepha, and I’m pretty sure he knows what’s what. Oh, and Cortez.”

“I remember Brian, but… Cortez?” Gerard asked, scribbling notes on a loose sheet of paper.

“Yeah, Matt Cortez, he was in my class, and I’ve seen him around the gym when Chris was taking me almost every day. He’s a good guy; he’d do whatever we asked.”

“Hmm, good.” Gerard tapped his pen against his lips, staring blankly at the wall over Frank’s shoulder. “Asher?”

“Vicky?” Frank asked. Gerard nodded and Frank shrugged. “She’s got a few friends, and she’s tight with Gabe, I think. We could ask.”

“Might as well,” Gerard said. “We need all the help we can get, and if these people don’t have any other affiliations, well.”

Frank nodded. Gerard’s enemies had pushed him to the point of begging his personal friends for help. Frank wanted to find this guy, whoever he was, and kill him with his bare hands for putting Gerard and the Family through this. “We might as well ask,” he agreed quietly.

***

“Frank, Gerard wants you in his office,” Tony said, poking his head into the kitchen. Frank brushed the crumbs off his hands.

“Did he say what for?” Frank asked. Tony shook his head. Deciding it would be best to go in prepared, Frank got out Gerard’s mug and filled it with steaming coffee. He topped off his own cup, then added cream and sugar to both. There was never a time when Gerard didn’t want coffee, but especially lately, when he barely got any sleep.

Gerard had his head in his hands when Frank slipped inside; there were files spread out messily over his desk, littered with scraps of paper and bright sticky notes. He glanced up and instantly brightened at the sight of fresh coffee.

“Tony said you needed me?” he prompted, handing Gerard his mug.

“He said I _wanted_ you,” Gerard corrected, “but I think I do need you, actually.” Frank waited while Gerard sipped his coffee (winced because it was too hot, and then sighed at how good it was anyway) and started to relax. “We don’t have anybody in law enforcement,” he said finally.

“What? What do you mean?”

“The dirty cops, the ones working for the Family? All either dead or retired. Or caught. Or not willing to help me. My point is, we haven’t recruited anybody since Papa was building up the business.”

“What about all the kids, all our cousins?” Frank asked, confused. He had thought the Family was pretty expansive, what with all their blood relatives and business associates.

“Nobody legit,” Gerard said. “We only have people who’ve been picked up or are under suspicion. No cops on the payroll anymore, nobody in the justice system at all.”

“Which means no get-out-of-jail-free cards,” Frank finished as realization dawned. “You can’t just walk into the station and start recruiting cops, Gerard. They’re cracking down on shit like this. I don’t even know how far you could get with bribery, these days.”

“We’re in the shit for sure,” Gerard moaned. His dramatic flair never failed to make Frank smile, and Frank was glad to see Gerard not taking things so seriously for once. It had been too long since he laughed. “I’ve been staring at files all morning,” Gerard continued, resting his head down on his desk. “I can’t think. What can we do?”

Frank fell quiet, stalling by pulling out his pack of Marlboros and his lighter. As soon as Gerard heard the flick of the flame catching, he held out his hand; Frank gave him the cigarette and took out another for himself.

“Let’s put Mark on it,” he finally said. Gerard lifted his head.

“Mark has a gambling problem.”

It was true; Mark had been spending an obscene amount of time in various basements, playing cards with high-rollers. “So? And by the way, ninety-eight percent of the time, he wins. Anyway, he can charm the pants off anybody, that’s why he’s so good at poker. If anyone can turn legit cops, it’s him.”

“Hmm… I’ll consider it,” Gerard said slowly. Frank could understand why Gerard was hesitant to put his own blood relatives at such high risk. So far, he’d managed to keep his close family relatively safe.

“I’ll put some feelers out,” Frank continued, “see who I know. Oh, hey, y’know Gabe?”

“Gabe Saporta, yeah, sure. He owns a couple of clubs, right? Is he good with people?”

“He’s kind of a party animal,” Frank replied. He knew from experience: he was pretty sure he and Gabe had done body shots off each other at a club once. “But anyway, he’s pretty good friends with Bill Beckett, that state prosecutor guy.”

William Beckett had gotten some press a while back for being the youngest prosecutor the state had ever hired, and then, more recently, for going sort of wild at a strip joint. A strip joint Frank happened to know that Gabe owned and frequented.

Gerard’s eyes narrowed. “Does Beckett know about Gabe’s connections?”

“I think so,” Frank said, nodding. “He’s gotten Gabe off the hook before, so he may be our in. And he’s not even Italian, so maybe he could fly under the radar if anybody gets suspicious.”

Gerard nodded. He looked intrigued, which was a good sign. “There’s also….” He trailed off and scribbled down a note. Frank waited; Gerard would tell him if he had a plan, and it wasn’t a good idea to interrupt Gerard’s thought processes. Gerard stopped writing and looked back at Frank. “We’ve also got deals with at least two of the Five Families in New York…” Gerard finally said. “If we reopened negotiations with them, maybe we could pool our resources. I’ll see who I can talk to over there.”

“Careful, Gee,” Frank broke in gently. “Don’t let them know you’re not independent. If they see us as weakened, it might start something we really don’t want.”

“Asking for help starts a mob war,” Gerard said wryly. “Awesome.”

***

One week later, Frank and Gerard were sitting at the police station outside the DA’s office. Frank couldn’t help but be a little twitchy and on edge, surrounded by a bunch of cops and detectives who would like nothing more than to put them both behind bars, but Gerard seemed perfectly at ease.

“How do you know this chick, anyway?”

“We dated in college.”

“Is she likely to grant you a favor?” Frank asked pointedly.

“I didn’t dump her, if that’s what you’re asking. Jesus. We weren’t really... _dating_ , per se—”

“Just fucking,” Frank cut in.

Gerard glared at him. “Shut up.”

“Gerard! This is a surprise.” They both stood up and turned to the sound of the woman’s voice. She was standing in the doorway with a thick manila file clutched to her chest, and she was gorgeous. Frank glanced at Gerard, but he was merely giving her a warm, friendly smile. Frank immediately thought of them in bed together and he blinked hard to erase the images from his mind.

“Lindsey, it’s good to see you.”

She came towards them and dropped the file on Gerard’s vacated seat. She was wearing a short skirt and knee-high boots, with a sexy, low-cut top, and Frank realized a second too late that he was staring at her breasts. He wrenched his eyes up to her face. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“This is my associate, Frank—”

“Iero, yeah, I know who he is,” Lindsey interrupted, smiling. “And I know what he _does_ , and I know what _you_ do, Gerard, so cut the crap, why are you here?”

Frank rolled his eyes. Gerard sighed and took a step closer to her. “Lyn, don’t be like that. Do I need an excuse to stop in and say hi?”

“After all these years? Yeah, you kind of do,” Lindsey replied, and she smiled again. “Why are you here, Gee? You can’t blackmail me and you can’t bribe—”

“No, no, stop, I’m not like that,” Gerard broke in quickly. He acted like he was offended, and maybe he was, that Lindsey would think of him that way, but Gerard really was like that. Sometimes.

“Hear what he has to say, Lindsey, please,” Frank said. He gave her his most innocent puppy-dog face and she caved instantly. Frank fought the urge to smirk.

“I just need to ask you a favor, just a little favor, please hear me out,” Gerard began. She was already shaking her head. “No, listen, I’m not asking as a business, just as a friend, please. I’m going through a lot of personal issues right now, and I need your help. Listen as a friend, please, that’s all I ask.”

Lindsey shifted her weight and tossed her thick, black ponytail over one shoulder. “I’m listening,” she said.

“Can we go into your office?” Gerard asked quietly. “I’d rather… not be overheard.”

Lindsey cast her gaze around the building; it wasn’t deserted by any means, but there wasn’t anyone near them. Still, she nodded and took Gerard’s hand. Frank hesitated, unsure if she meant for him to follow.

“Wait here,” Gerard murmured. Frank nodded and sat back down.

She left her file. He was sure she hadn’t meant to, but Frank wasn’t nice enough to leave it be. He picked it up and glanced at the first page. Gerard’s name was printed clearly at the top, and as Frank flicked through the next few pages, he found several photos of Gerard and himself, and a few of Gerard with other members of the Family. Frank’s pulse quickened.

The parts of the file that Frank skimmed through didn’t have anything too incriminating, he was relieved to note. It was mostly information that Gerard gave out freely, like the legitimate imports side of the business, and his own personal history, things like dropping out of college to take over when his grandfather died.

He didn’t manage to look very far before he heard voices and footsteps approaching, though. Frank slammed the file closed and put it back on the chair beside him, then crossed his legs and tried to look nonchalant. He stood up when Lindsey and Gerard appeared.

They were both smiling, and Gerard kissed Lindsey’s cheek as he said goodbye, so their meeting must have gone well. Frank waved cheerfully at her before turning to leave, and caught her answering wave. He grinned.

“How did it go?” he asked, once they were back in the car. Pete was driving, so Frank could devote his full attention to Gerard. “What did she say?”

“I told her some of what’s going on, and she agreed to look the other way while we take care of things,” Gerard answered easily.

Frank’s goggled at him. “What, just like that? Favor for a friend, or are you agreeing to sexual favors or what?”

“Frank! Shut the fuck up. She’s a nice woman and she listens to reason. And I promised her I wouldn’t go overboard.”

Frank laughed and nudged Gerard in the ribs. “You’re such a charmer, Gee.”

“She agreed practically right away, once we were alone in her office,” Gerard said. “It was a little weird, actually.”

“She was reading your file,” Frank replied.

Gerard stared at him. “Frank—”

“She left it on your chair,” Frank continued quickly. “From what I saw, it wasn’t anything too bad, though they obviously know _something_ about what you do. No concrete evidence, though.”

“So why did she agree?” Gerard asked, looking confused. “If she was reading up on me, she should’ve gone running in the opposite direction.”

Frank shrugged. “Maybe she really does like you.”

Gerard leaned back in his seat and looked out the window. “Hm.”

***

“I saw Mark talking to that Asher girl and her friends,” Franco said without preamble. Frank rolled his eyes and nodded. It was no use denying it. “What is Gerard doing with these people?”

“Networking,” Frank replied. “He hasn’t seen them since high school, y’know? We’re just reconnecting with some old friends.” He hated that it was necessary, but Frank knew he couldn’t say much about Gerard’s plans.

“These people, these _girls_ , don’t belong in this world,” Franco hissed. “This is our territory, Frankie, and he has no right bringing in people who don’t understand.”

Frank’s hand clenched tight around his phone. “That’s not—”

“I know exactly what he’s trying to pull, Frankie. If he wants to keep our trust, he should play by the rules. He should fucking know better. No outsiders, no girls. Gerard is alienating his own Family by going behind our backs—”

“Dad, shut up,” Frank spat. “Gerard can do whatever he wants, talk to whoever he wants, and it doesn’t necessarily involve the entire fucking Family, alright? Give him some fucking space. This job is taking over his life.”

“That’s how it should be. He was never ready for this position.”

Frank’s blood ran cold and he took a deep breath before answering. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again,” he said stiffly, and hung up.

***

Frank expected Gerard to visit him that night, and Gerard didn’t disappoint. He snuck in around one in the morning, but Frank was already awake, waiting for him. The lights were off, and Gerard didn’t bother turning them on, he just joined Frank on the bed and stretched out beside him.

“Do you think it’s okay that I’m bringing in all these people who aren’t even connected to the Family?” he asked.

Frank nodded. “I think it’s the only thing we can do in this situation. I don’t think it’s a particularly good idea, but… at this point, who else can we turn to?”

“I feel weird about telling them, though. We knew these guys in high school, y’know? And now there’s all this shit going on, and they didn’t even know—”

“They don’t care,” Frank broke in. Matt Cortez certainly didn’t; he’d jumped right in when Frank had approached him earlier in the week. Schechter had been harder to persuade, but in the end, he agreed to do whatever he could to help Gerard, if not the Family. Vicky and Gabe both signed on immediately and without question; Gabe, because he already knew the Family business, and Victoria because she trusted Gabe’s judgment.

“I can’t trust them,” Gerard admitted quietly.

“You don’t have to trust them yet,” Frank said. “But they’re on our side.”

“I can’t trust anybody anymore,” Gerard said miserably. Frank reached out and touched his hand. “Not even people in the Family, people I was supposed to be able to call for help. Nothing’s going as I planned—”

“We’ll make a new plan,” Frank said, before Gerard got off track. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course, Frankie, of course I do. You’re pretty much the only one I really do trust with my life.”

“Then we’ll figure it out together. I promise.”

Gerard sighed and shifted close enough to rest his head on Frank’s shoulder. “I just wish I knew who’s on my side.”

Frank didn’t mention the conversation he’d had with his father, even though he knew Gerard would want to know. Frank could hardly talk to his dad anymore without arguing, and it was usually over Gerard and his policies. It was on the tip of Frank’s tongue to tell Gerard everything, but Gerard patted his arm, whispered, “Thanks, Frankie,” and disappeared.

***


	4. part 2

“Gerard, we have to get out of this fucking house,” Frank groaned. He was lying on his back on the floor behind Gerard’s desk. The same desk in the same office Gerard’s grandfather and great-grandfather had occupied, once upon a time.

Gerard made a noncommittal noise and didn’t turn his head. He obviously wasn’t listening.

Frank pushed himself up to his knees and looked out the window, his elbows resting on the windowsill. “Geraaaaard.” His breath made the window fog up, but it dissipated quickly. “Nobody should be inside for this long. We need to go out.”

“Maybe later.”

Frank hopped up and put his chin on Gerard’s shoulder. “We’re going out for dinner, okay? I’ll call Carlucci’s and make a reservation for seven.”

“I need to finish th—”

“We’ve been working for hours,” Frank whined. “We need a break.”

“I’ve been working. You’ve been complaining. Alright, fine, but seven-thirty, okay?”

“Ugh, fine.” Frank wasn’t really upset, though. He counted it as a win that Gerard even agreed to go out for dinner. He spun away from Gerard and went out into the hall to call the restaurant.

Out in the lounge, he ran into Vinnie, Mark, and Tony, sitting around the coffee table playing cards. Mark looked up when Frank came in, grinning at him. He must be winning, then.

“Where’s Mikey?” Mark asked.

“Um.” Frank dialed the number for Carlucci’s on his cell phone without even looking. It was his favorite restaurant; they had an amazing vegetarian lasagna. “I dunno? I was with Gerard.”

“He owes me two hundred bucks. He bet me I couldn’t win against Vinnie.”

“You haven’t won yet,” Vinnie grumbled, holding his cards up to his face.

Frank laughed. “He’s not actually gonna pay you, y’know.”

“Yeah,” added Tony, “that’s how he makes so much dough. He makes bets all over the place but never pays up when he loses.”

“Everybody pays him, though,” Frank pointed out. “Hey, me and Gerard are going to Carlucci’s tonight. You guys want us to bring you anything back?”

“Take Chris with you,” Vinnie began.

“Nah, we’ll be fine,” Frank said quickly. “It’s just Carlucci’s, and I’ll be with him. He needs to get out. Like, outside. I can’t even remember the last time he went outside.”

“Yesterday,” Tony said.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Tony.”

Mikey appeared before Frank could continue. He brushed past Frank, skirted around the table, and went out the front door without a word. Tony rose smoothly to his feet and followed him. He paused at the door to wave at Frank, who rolled his eyes knowingly.

Mikey had a habit of just disappearing like that; he’d been doing it ever since he was a teenager. When Gerard and Tony had come back from New York, Tony had started sticking to Mikey like glue to keep him safe and out of trouble. Frank didn’t know whether Gerard had asked him to or if it was just something Tony did, but he knew Gerard felt better when Mikey wasn’t going out alone.

“I was losing anyway,” Tony said, and left.

***

Even though it was just the two of them, the glad-handing in the Carlucci’s lobby seemed to take _ages_. Frank greeted the hostess and the two waiters who were standing there with casual hugs and kisses on the cheek. The maître d’ smiled at Gerard and shook his hand warmly, then ran off to find the owner, Anthony Carlucci, who wanted to stay and chat for a while until Frank leaned in toward Gerard and made a quiet, impatient noise in his ear. They were shown to their table the very next minute.

They always sat at a table in the back corner, even though it was sort of dark. They got excellent service, but that was because of who they were, not where they were sitting. It was kind of awkward when it was just the two of them, though, because neither of them knew where to sit.

Frank sat against the wall whenever possible, so nobody could sneak up on him, but Gerard liked sitting against the wall because he liked to watch people. While it might be better for both of them to have Frank where he could see who was approaching, it also left Gerard slightly more in the open, and with his back turned.

It wasn’t the first time they’d been out alone, though, not in all their years of knowing each other and over two years working together, and Frank nudged Gerard into the seat in the corner and then scooted in next to him.

It was almost romantic, with the candle and the fine china and bottle of wine. Frank took it easy on the wine, though, because it was his job to be paranoid and he needed to pay attention. And drive them home.

“Sorry for being such a hermit,” Gerard said after a while. Frank shrugged, nudging Gerard’s shoulder. “No, it’s true, though,” Gerard continued. “I’ve been keeping you cooped up in the house and I know you hate it.”

“It’s alright,” Frank replied. “We’re out now, right?”

“I’m just really busy right now, Frankie.”

“It’s okay, Gee, really.” Frank was one of a handful of people who could still get away with using that nickname, and that fact gave him a little thrill. It felt like a secret whenever he used it.

“So I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe you should take over for Tony and start hanging with Mikey. He’s more your scene, really. He goes out to clubs all the time, and I know he annoys the shit out of Tony…”

“Gerard—” Frank sat up straight and touched Gerard’s arm tentatively, but Gerard wasn’t listening.

“And you and Mikey’ve always gotten along really well. I mean, you kind of shared a room with him for years. He actually likes you. I think he just tolerates Tony, which is why he’s being such a brat right now. But he talks to you, right? I think it might be—”

“Gerard, shut up,” Frank interrupted loudly.

Gerard shut up. They both glanced around, but nobody was sitting close enough to them to hear. People didn’t just tell Gerard Way to shut up. Not even someone in Frank’s position. Maybe _especially_ not someone in Frank’s position. To outsiders, he was a glorified bodyguard.

“Do you _want_ me with Mikey?” Frank asked quietly.

“I just think that you might be more comfortable with him for a while, or maybe out on your own…” Gerard murmured back, looking down at their dishes. Then he finally noticed Frank’s fingertips on his arm, and he frowned, but Frank didn’t remove them. Gerard lifted his other hand and touched one of Frank’s black-painted fingernails, a look of intense concentration on his face.

“Gerard, I’ve been at your side since you came back from New York,” Frank whispered. “I’m not going to _choose_ to leave you, not even for Mikey. Unless you’re trying to get rid of me, or something.”

“No, it’s not—”

“I mean, I know I’ve been a pest lately—”

“Frankie.”

“I’ll just back off or something. I won’t be so annoying, I promise.”

“Frank,” Gerard said softly, “you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I just thought, y’know… You might want a… a change of scene, or something. Y’know, so you’re not just sitting around the office, bored.”

Frank’s smile was so wide that it felt like it was going to break his face in half. He shoveled a healthy forkful of pasta into his mouth to cover it up. With his mouth full and a noodle clinging to his chin, he mumbled, “You’re stuck with me, then.”

It was exactly the kind of thing Frank would have done in high school, and it still made Gerard laugh. Frank ducked his head, blushing, and swallowed his food. Gerard put his hand on top of Frank’s, which Frank just now realized was still resting on Gerard’s forearm, and squeezed.

“Yeah, guess so,” Gerard said happily.

***

The next day, Frank was maybe regretting not going out with Mikey. Just a little bit. He was lying on his back again, but this time on one of the sofas Gerard kept in the office. It was lumpy and short enough that Frank could touch the opposite armrest with his feet while he was leaning against the other. It was really more like a loveseat, by today’s standards, but it was old. Everything in the house was old.

Frank was reading a comic book while Gerard read over papers and typed things and signed things, or whatever it was he was doing at the desk. They weren’t talking, but Gerard had music playing from his computer to fill the silence.

Gerard hit him in the face with a paper airplane.

Frank squeaked in surprise, then coughed to make it sound like he wasn’t a complete pussy. Not that Gerard would care, really, and not that he hadn’t been privy to the most embarrassing moments of Frank’s life, but still. He had a reputation to uphold.

Frank twisted around to look at Gerard, but he was doing something on his computer, facing the other direction. He wasn’t even smiling. Frank picked up the paper airplane. On one wing, it said “OPEN ME,” in Gerard’s loopy handwriting.

He pulled open the folded paper. On the inside, there was a drawing of Frank lying on the sofa, asleep, with a thought-bubble that contained Frank with blood on his face and hands, holding a gun, and several black lumps surrounding him, which Frank assumed were bodies. There were artful blood-spatters all over the thought-bubble, and even a few large drops dripping down from the little cloud. Gerard had even covered Frank’s arms in swirls of color for his tattoos.

Underneath the drawing, Gerard had written: sorry i’m so boring. xoxo g

Frank rolled off the couch, landing stealthily on his hand and knees, and crawled around Gerard’s desk. He popped up right behind the computer, and Gerard made a quiet noise of surprise. It was nowhere near as embarrassing as Frank’s squeak, though. Frank, still on his knees, rested his chin on Gerard’s desk and smiled.

“You’re not boring, Gee.”

Gerard smiled back. “You don’t have to stay in here, if you don’t want. I’m sure Vinnie and Worm are playing poker or something out in the living room.”

“How ‘bout if I just get us some lunch?” Frank asked. “Sandwich alright? We might have some pasta left over from last night.”

Gerard shrugged. “Whatever. Make what you want, and give me some.”

“Sure thing.” Frank stood up and tapped the back of Gerard’s hand. His colored markers were still scattered all over the desk. “Back in a few!”

***

Johnny was in the kitchen, bits and pieces of various guns laid out on the counter in front of him. Frank didn’t know if he was cleaning them or just admiring them; Johnny was kind of crazy like that. Frank didn’t touch anything. He didn’t want a bullet between the eyes. Johnny was kind of crazy like _that_ , too, and it didn’t even matter that Johnny had known him since he was a kid; Frank still believed he would snap one day and kill them all.

“How’s the boss-man?” Johnny asked, not looking up from the revolver he was fondling.

“Busy,” Frank replied with a sigh. He opened the refrigerator. “Hey, do we still have any of that sausage shit?”

“Yeah, in the meat drawer.”

There was an unopened grocery store package of steak in there, and Frank almost couldn’t reach in. He shuddered. He didn’t know what made him so squeamish—it sure as hell wasn’t the blood. Frank felt around for the leftover sausage slices, then grabbed a few different kinds of cheese and a bowl of salad, left over from a family dinner earlier in the week.

He made Gerard’s sandwich first, loading it with meat and cheese and condiments, and then started on his own veggie version of the same thing. Johnny looked up and scoffed at him.

“I’m so much healthier than you,” Frank muttered under his breath. “Don’t even start with me, fucker.”

“You’re such a chick, Frankie.”

“I’ll knock your teeth in and all you’ll be eating is tapioca,” Frank shot back.

Johnny shook his head, giving him a ‘whatever, man’ wave, and turned his attention back to his guns. His eyes fucking _gleamed_. Crazy-ass creep.

Frank grabbed two Diet Cokes out of the fridge and carried everything back to the office balanced on his arms. He could’ve been a waiter, he thought smugly, if only he hadn’t been so busy being a delinquent in his teens.

When he opened the door (nearly dropping both plates in the process, but luckily nobody was in the hallway to see that), Gerard was on the phone, a sour expression on his face. He wasn’t speaking. Frank walked in as quietly as he could and put everything down on the table beside the sofa, then lowered himself into the chair across from Gerard.

“Y’know what? Just shut the fuck up, okay? No, seriously, _shut up_. I’ll let you know when to speak again,” Gerard said loudly, his voice full of anger. Real anger, Frank realized, not the act he pulled to get people to listen to him. “You think you can threaten me? Well, you’re wrong. It doesn’t matter who the fuck you are, I am still the most powerful man in New Jersey, and that’s not going to fucking change.

“If you want to start a fucking war over this, you’re fucking welcome to. You’re not going to win, I can fucking guarantee you that.” Gerard lowered his voice to a silky-smooth hiss, and even Frank had to admit that it was scary as fuck. “You can’t threaten my Family and expect to get away with it. I will fuck you up, and I will fuck up everyone you fucking know in the process. Do you understand me?”

Frank smirked. No way in hell was the guy on the phone misunderstanding _that_.

Gerard didn’t even wait for a reply. He slammed the phone down on its cradle and sat there glaring at it for a few long seconds before Frank cleared his throat and asked, “Do I need to kill anyone?”

Gerard laughed. He really _laughed_ , a full laugh that Frank hadn’t heard in forever. “Only you, Frankie. Only you.”

“What?” Frank asked, smiling.

“Only you would twist this absolute fuck-up into something that you actually want.”

“Hey, are you saying I’m a bloodthirsty psychopath?” Frank asked with feigned offence.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Fucking psycho.”

Frank leapt out of the chair and snatched the plates and drinks off the table, setting them down gracefully on top of the mess of papers on Gerard’s desk. “A fucking psycho who brought sandwiches!”

“Ahh, I love you,” Gerard sighed gratefully. “And you even put meat and cheese on it! I really do love you.”

Frank blushed and ducked his head. “Anything for you, baby,” he teased. Gerard nudged his arm. He was smiling.

***

Frank glanced at the caller-ID and snatched up the phone before anyone else could catch it. “Hey, Dad,” he said. “Gerard can’t talk right now, he’s—”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Franco interrupted smoothly. He scoffed teasingly. “I can’t even call up my own son anymore.”

“Oh. Well. Hi, then.”

“How are things at the house?”

Frank looked around; the kitchen was empty and there were no noises from the front rooms, and he knew Gerard was closed up in his office, alone. “Fine,” he answered. “Pretty quiet. Gerard’s working, and I think everyone else is out.”

“And how’s Gerard doing?”

“He’s good. I took him out to dinner the other night, ‘cause we hadn’t seen the outside world in about a week, so…” Frank replied casually.

“What is he working on that has him so busy?” Franco asked. His tone was politely interested, but a warning flag waved in Frank’s mind.

“Um, y’know, just…” Frank said vaguely, “stuff.”

“Stuff? Frank, tell me what’s going on. I just want to make sure everything’s running smoothly.”

“It is.”

“You don’t know that. If he’s working ‘round the clock, something must be wrong—”

“Everything’s fine, Dad,” Frank insisted.

“I just think it might help to have someone else in the loop,” Franco replied gently. “Someone who knows—”

“Gerard knows what he’s doing,” Frank said through gritted teeth.

“Maybe Johnny DeLuca would be willing to—”

“He’s willing to do anything he can,” Frank interrupted, “but Gerard wants to do this alone. So back off, okay? He can handle it.”

“Frankie,” Franco said condescendingly, “it’s just that it’s so soon after Elena’s death, and Gerard was never fully prepared for this position—”

“Dad.”

“Johnny was a very powerful man when Michael was in charge, and Gerard could benefit from having—”

“ _Dad_.”

“He knows how to run this Family, Frank.”

“You weren’t listening. Gerard wants to do this alone. And he will. That’s the end of it,” Frank said firmly. “Now, was there anything _else_ you wanted to talk about?”

***

After his phone call, Frank set the handset back on the base to charge and wandered aimlessly around the house for a few minutes. It was a little bit surprising how empty it was; usually there was somebody else besides Frank and Gerard hanging out or waiting for a job to do. Today, though, the house was deserted. Frank sat down in the front lounge, slightly paranoid at being the only person with a gun inside the house.

“Hey, Gerard?” Frank called, boredom seeping into his mind.

There was no answer, so Frank made his way down the hall to the office. When he opened the door, he caught the end of a conversation and saw Johnny with his shoulders stiff and fists clenched behind his back.

“I appreciate your input,” Gerard was saying, “but I really feel I need to take this myself.”

“Oh, sorry—” Frank muttered, realizing they were having some kind of private conversation.

“It’s fine, Frank, come in,” Gerard cut in quickly.

“I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed,” Johnny said gently, and Frank was reminded of his dad saying almost the same thing on the phone. Johnny shot Frank a sharp look and continued, “I know you have a lot to deal with, and you’re not as experienced as—”

“I’m perfectly capable of—” Gerard began firmly.

“I’m concerned, Gerard.” Johnny held out an open hand toward Gerard and Frank raised an eyebrow. “I’m worried you’re stretching yourself too thin, trying to do too much on your own so soon after—”

“Enough,” Gerard snapped. Johnny withdrew his hand and curled it around his other fist at the small of his back. Frank glanced back and forth between them nervously. “Thank you for your concern,” Gerard continued tightly, “but I’m fine, and I am going to deal with this alone. Now, if you would step out of my office…”

Johnny gave Gerard a short nod and turned on his heel. He brushed roughly past Frank as he left. “What was that all about?” Frank asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Nothing to worry about,” Gerard replied blithely.

***

“Frank, I’m sending Johnny with you today.”

Frank couldn’t stop the “Why?” that slipped past his lips. “Sorry, I don’t need to—”

“It’s to show him that I’m not a kid,” Gerard said candidly. “He thinks I’m going to fall apart. He doesn’t trust my judgment. He needs to.”

Frank nodded quickly. “So, what’s on the agenda?”

Gerard handed him a list. “Check up on these people,” he said, pointing to the first two names, “get money from these people,” he moved his finger to the next three, “and get back here by five, ‘cause I have a meeting I want you here for.”

It wasn’t what Gerard’s grandfather would have done. He would’ve made everything happen through phone calls and reliable third parties, and he wouldn’t have bothered checking up on people first, but Frank liked Gerard’s way better. Gerard was more peaceful, yes, but he certainly wasn’t weak.

Frank pocketed the list and gave Gerard an encouraging grin before running off to find Johnny.

***

“Dude,” Frank said over drinks as he watched Mikey eye a girl at the opposite end of the bar. “You’re never going to win Alicia’s heart if you keep sleeping around.”

“Shut up, Frank,” Mikey replied shortly.

“At least he’s getting some,” Mark added. “I don’t think he needs your advice.”

“Hey! I was with Jamia for two years; I know how to get a girl.”

“She dumped you,” Mikey said. Mark cracked up.

“No!” Frank objected shrilly. “We just… came to a mutual agreement that we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

“Dude,” Mikey said, raising his eyebrows expressively. “Give it up. She dumped you. In junior year.”

Frank frowned down at his beer. “She was too good for me, anyway,” he conceded miserably.

“High school sweethearts never last,” Mark said, as if he knew, waving his bottle around in front of them. He’d never had a steady girlfriend in school, only hookups. Mikey downed the rest of his beer and after a moment, he nodded.

“Who gives a fuck about what Alicia thinks,” he asked rhetorically.

“ _You_ do,” Frank replied. “You can’t say you don’t care.”

“Yeah, man,” Mark added, apparently playing both sides of the debate. “You lost your virginity to her in Gerard’s bedroom when you were fifteen.”

“What?!” Frank cried. Mikey groaned in annoyance. “Mikey! I have to sleep in there! Jesus. Now all I’m gonna be able to think about is you and Alicia having stupid first-time sex on my bed.”

“You sleep on _Gerard’s_ old bed,” Mark said. “You think he’s never had an orgasm on it?”

“Gerard never had a girlfriend in high school,” Mikey pointed out, and Mark cackled. “And besides, we did it on the floor the first time.”

“Oh. Oh god. _Mikey_ , Jesus Christ. The _first_ time?”

“I was sharing a room with this loser,” Mikey said, jabbing his thumb at Mark. “What’d you want me to do?”

“Not have sex in your brother’s bed! Ew, gross! God. I’m so telling Gee about this.”

“He knows,” Mikey said morosely. He stole the rest of Frank’s beer. “He walked in on us, once.”

Mark started laughing hysterically and couldn’t stop, not even when Mikey thumped him on the back. Frank put his head down on his arms. “Can we talk about something other than Mikeyway’s sex life, please?”

“Better his than yours,” Mark giggled drunkenly. “At least he’s getting some.”

“God, Mark, shut _up_ ,” Frank groaned.

***

When Frank rolled out of bed the next morning and stumbled down to the kitchen, Gerard was already there, freshly showered and rubbing a towel over his hair with one hand and pouring himself and Frank each a cup of coffee with the other.

“Busy day today,” Gerard said tiredly. Frank took his mug gratefully from Gerard’s outstretched hand. Apparently distracted, Gerard reached out and touched the ‘hope’ tattoo on Frank’s chest with one fingertip. Frank tried not to shiver. “I need you to wear a suit, though. We’re going out.”

“What kind of ‘out’?”

“Your kind.”

A suit he wouldn’t mind getting blood on, then. Frank grinned. “I’ll go shower.”

***

Pete was their chauffeur today; he picked them up in a dark blue car Frank hadn’t seen before. Chris sat beside him in the passenger seat, and Frank was in the back with Gerard, double-checking his weapons. He had a blade strapped to his ankle and two guns in shoulder holsters, but he was mostly counting on his fists.

“What’s the deal?” Frank asked quietly. Gerard didn’t always tell Frank the reasons behind his plans, unless Frank asked. He knew the other guys didn’t get the same privilege.

“Mr. Goldwin needs to understand that he can’t order me around,” Gerard replied smoothly, tilting his chin up. He looked completely unaffected.

“You want me to kill him?”

“No, not yet. Just fuck him up. This time.”

That sounded ominous even to Frank, but he nodded, grinning. “My pleasure.”

It worked out the way it always did: Frank and Gerard went in and did whatever needed to be done. Chris stayed just outside, in case he was needed (he usually wasn’t, lately, and Frank was pretty fucking smug about that). Pete waited with the car, as extra backup and a quick getaway.

The guy Frank was supposed to fuck up was a middle-aged, heavy-set guy with a butt-ugly mustache and an unfortunate mole on his nose. His name was Jimmy Jackson, and everything about him set Frank on edge.

He greeted Gerard with a half-smile and a perfunctory handshake, and didn’t offer his hand to Frank. Frank stuck out his hand and said, “Jimmy?”

“Mr. Jackson,” Jimmy corrected with a grimace, and that was his first mistake. Frank had to keep himself from punching Mr. Jimmy Jackson in the nose right then.

Jimmy led them in to the living room and had them both sit on the sofa, throwing himself into an armchair before they’d even come all the way into the room. That was his second mistake. Frank clenched his fists. No wonder Gerard wanted to fuck him up.

It became obvious as Jimmy and Gerard spoke that Jimmy had no respect at all for Gerard. The Family, maybe, but he was treating Gerard like a bratty teenager. Gerard hadn’t been treated like a teenager since he was fourteen, and even men three times his age now knew to show respect for the head of the fucking Family.

Finally, Gerard interrupted the guy’s whiny monologue with, “If you think I’m going to listen to you, you’re sorely mistaken. If you think I care, you’re just an idiot.”

“Mr. Way—” Jimmy began, in a tone that meant he thought Gerard was being unreasonable.

“Frankie?”

“With pleasure,” Frank growled.

The plus side to being short was that Frank was _always_ underestimated. He was still young enough to have a shitload of pent-up energy and his body was still pretty resilient, and he rarely got hurt too badly. His favorite method of attack was throwing himself on his victim, or climbing them like a tree and beating the shit out of their face until they went down. Chris had taught him to use his small stature to its best advantage.

In this case, he launched himself off the sofa and tackled Jimmy with enough force to overturn the armchair. He pinned Jimmy down and snarled at him for a few seconds before winding up for the first punch.

When Gerard felt Jimmy’s face was suitably fucked up, he touched Frank’s shoulder gently. “C’mon,” he murmured. “We’re leaving.”

Frank popped up—the dude only managed one real retaliatory punch to Frank’s ribs, but it was probably only going to bruise for a few days, nothing serious—and followed Gerard out of the house, straightening his suit as he walked. He had blood on the cuffs of his shirt, and a little bit on his lapels, but otherwise, he didn’t look too bad.

Gerard pulled handkerchief from his front pocket and reached for Frank’s chin. Frank obediently stilled and tilted his head so Gerard could wipe the blood off his face.

“Okay?”

Frank nodded. “Dude was a fucking pussy. Annoying as fuck, though.”

Gerard grimaced and muttered, “Yeah.” He tapped Chris on the shoulder as they passed him and the three of them headed back towards the car. When they were all in, he said, “We’re making one more stop before we go home.”

“Same deal?” Frank asked.

“Not quite.”

Frank waited for more, but Gerard remained silent. Frank raised his eyebrows. Gerard replied with a little wave of his hand that meant ‘I’ll tell you later’.

Pete parked the car at a derelict apartment building. Gerard told Chris to wait in the car, and then he and Frank marched confidently towards the elevator.

“This is about intimidation,” Gerard murmured once the doors had closed. He pressed the button for the fourth floor. “Freak him out. Use a gun or a knife, I don’t care, but not your fists. I want to scare him, but don’t leave a mark on him. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Frank replied quickly. He unholstered one of his pistols and emptied the clip into his hand. “What’s this about, Gee?”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“I’ll tell you later,” Gerard said, already walking. He stopped at the door marked 4B and pressed his ear to it, ducking beneath the peephole. Frank could hear trance music from inside, the bass turned up enough to make the walls vibrate. Gerard moved away and nodded. “Knock it down.”

“Not being polite today?” Frank teased. He took a few steps back and shook the tension out of his arms.

“Not this time,” Gerard replied grimly.

Frank took a flying leap at the door, throwing all of his weight behind his left shoulder. The door bulged with the force and cracked, and Frank threw himself at it again. It snapped off its hinges and Frank even landed on his feet with only minor stumbling. There were three guys and a seriously stoned chick inside, lounging around on the floor with a bunch of pillows and blankets. The room was hazy with smoke, and Frank smelled pot. He found the stereo and silenced it.

Gerard marched right in and grabbed one of the men by the hair, yanking his head back. The other guys stared at him with wide eyes, unmoving. The girl was too out of it to even react. Frank glared at them and they cowered. They weren’t going to be any trouble.

He looked back at Gerard and was surprised to find him on his knees behind the guy, both hands fisted in the guy’s hair now, bending around to whisper in his ear. Frank couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the dude looked like he was about to piss himself. Gerard had that effect on people, sometimes.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?”

Gerard whispered something else into the dude’s ear and he nodded frantically. Gerard then rose smoothly to his feet, still holding the guy’s hair in one hand. “Teach him a lesson,” Gerard said.

Frank pulled out the gun and steadied it between the guy’s eyes. He could practically see his pulse quicken. Frank smirked.

“You fuck with my brother again, I will kill you,” Gerard hissed, jerking on the guy’s hair. “Got it?”

Frank cocked the gun and pressed it against his sweaty forehead.

“Yeah, yeah, got it, I got it, I swear, it won’t happen again, I swear to God,” the guy cried. His eyes were welling up with tears. “It wasn’t my fault, I just told her what I saw—”

Gerard let go of his hair and circled around behind Frank, leaning in to whisper in harsh tones, “Forget what I said before. Mark him up, below the neck.”

“With pleasure,” Frank snarled. He gave the guy a kick to the chest to get him on the floor, and then another two swift kicks to the side. The man curled in on himself, shouting for Frank to stop. Frank felt Gerard’s hand on his arm.

“Let’s go.”

Frank kicked him one more time and followed Gerard out the door. When they were back in the elevator, he asked, “That guy fucked with Mikey?”

Gerard gave him a lopsided grin and said, “He won’t anymore.”

***

“Clean yourself up and call your dad,” Gerard said when they got home. “I have some work to do. Alone.”

Frank frowned but said, “Sure,” and went to do as Gerard asked.

He took a long, scalding shower and tried to work some of the tension out of his back. His knuckles were bruised, but none of the blood he scrubbed off his skin was his own. His left shoulder was sore as all hell from knocking down the door, and though the hot water helped, Frank could feel his muscles stiffening.

He didn’t bother getting dressed before calling his father, flopping down on his bed with only a towel around his waist.

“Hey, Dad,” he said without preamble. “Gerard wanted me to call you?”

“Yeah,” Franco replied slowly. “There’s a meeting tomorrow night. Hadn’t he told you?”

“No, he didn’t mention it…” Frank said, frowning. It wasn’t like Gerard to keep things like that from him.

“Well, apparently something’s going down. Just tell ‘im everything’s as it should be.”

“Sure,” Frank said. His dad was being vague on purpose, but Frank trusted that Gerard would tell him why if he needed to know.

“So, how was your day, kid?”

“Beat a couple of people up,” Frank replied. “Gee’s been cooped up in his office for like, a month. I think this was partly just to give me some exercise or something so I would quit whining at him. I was going kind of stir-crazy here, and I wasn’t really being subtle about it.”

“He’s probably stressed,” Franco observed quietly.

“Yeah,” Frank agreed. “I think he is.”

Franco didn’t stay on the phone long after that. He made his excuses and hung up, leaving Frank staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, at the dragon Gerard had painted there when it was still his room. It was calming, all of the swirls of color.

Frank sighed and rolled to his feet, searched the floor for a pair of sweatpants, and went downstairs shirtless. He knocked on Gerard’s office door, waiting for permission before entering. Gerard was at his desk, phone in hand but not in use.

“My dad says ‘everything is as it should be.’” Frank threw himself onto the sofa and covered his eyes again. “Is something going on tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I wanted to meet with the caporegimi,” Gerard answered simply.

“Oh.” Frank couldn’t very well accuse Gerard of not mentioning it to him, not when Gerard was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. Frank heard him punching numbers into the phone.

“You alright, Frank? You look kind of—Yes, hello, this is Gerard Way for Mr. Ricci?”

Frank sighed.

***

That night, Frank woke up to Gerard’s hand on his foot, shaking him gently and murmuring, “Frank. Frankie. Wake up.”

“What? Huh, what?” Frank gasped, sitting bolt upright and instantly wide awake. His shoulder throbbed in protest of the sudden movement. “Gee?”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Gerard soothed, rubbing his ankle. “I just need to talk to you.”

Frank rubbed his eyes. “In the middle of the night?”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Gerard replied sheepishly.

“Whatever, it’s fine.” Frank yawned. “What’s up?”

“That meeting tomorrow,” Gerard began in a whisper. “I think something’s starting, and I want to catch it before it happens.”

Frank blinked. “Um.”

“I don’t know exactly what to do about it, but… I think I have to do something.”

“Um. Yeah, Gee? Maybe I’m just still half-asleep, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gerard sighed and flopped onto his back. Frank crawled down to the end of the bed to join him. They stared up at the dragon together.

“That guy today, Jimmy?”

 _Jimmy the Disrespectful Asshole_ , Frank thought. He nodded.

“He’s not the first,” Gerard admitted quietly.

“Yeah, sure, but—”

“There’s a bunch of guys, around my dad’s age, or would be if he—”

“Yeah.”

“They’re like… They don’t want me. They want my grandfather. I’m just a kid to them.”

“You’re twenty-six.”

“And they’re in their forties and fifties.” Gerard rolled onto his side and stared at Frank. “The older guys, they know how it works. They understand when someone takes over. The young guys are all younger than me, so they don’t question me. But these middle-aged guys…”

“They’re assholes,” Frank interrupted vehemently. “I will fuck them up, Gee, every one of them.”

Gerard raised a hand to his mouth and started nibbling at his thumbnail. “I don’t think that’s enough,” he murmured. They fell silent for a few minutes.

“So what’s this meeting about, then?” Frank asked. “What are you gonna say? What did what my dad said mean?”

“Frankie, I just think—”

“Gerard, tell me. What’s going on?”

“I don’t think it’s just those guys,” Gerard finally said. He sounded almost ashamed to admit it. “I think there’s guys in the Family who are thinking the same things.”

“In the Family?” Frank asked disbelievingly. “You mean—”

“I asked your dad to figure out who he trusted.”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. If Gerard still trusted his dad’s judgment, he still trusted Frank.

“He said everything’s fine,” Frank whispered.

“I know,” Gerard breathed. “And to be honest, that’s worrying me a little bit.”

Frank swallowed. So much for trust. “Gerard—”

“Frankie, no—I trust you with my life and my secrets,” Gerard whispered urgently, “and I just need to know if you will stay with me no matter what.”

“Of course,” Frank replied instantly. He thought that was obvious.

“I mean it.”

“ _I_ mean it. Gerard, I love you.”

Gerard curled his hand around the back of Frank’s neck and kissed his forehead.

“Things are really fucked up right now, Frankie,” he whispered when he pulled away. “Right now I trust you and Mikey and Vinnie, and that’s about it.”

Gerard hadn’t moved his hand from the back of Frank’s neck. Frank closed his eyes. “I’ll protect you,” he whispered.

He felt Gerard nod, and a second later, he was alone in the room. He rolled onto his back, his eyes still closed.

“Fuck.”

***

Gerard tapped the top of Frank’s head the next day when he came down for breakfast. Frank paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “You have an appointment with Bryar this afternoon, and I want you at the meeting tonight. Don’t be late.”

Frank twisted around, but Gerard was already disappearing down the hall towards his office. “Okay,” Frank said. He didn’t remember feeling sick recently.

Dr. Bryar had been working for the family for as long as Frank could remember, treating everything from scrapes on the knees to pneumonia to bullet wounds. Frank called him Mob Doctor Bob, just to annoy him. To keep up appearances, he ran a private practice with another doctor who didn’t know anything about Bryar’s clientele, but the Family practically had Bob on retainer.

Frank had to sit around in the waiting room for almost half an hour, making small talk with a woman and her two kids. The older one, he looked to be about ten, kept staring at Frank’s tattoos, and it made him self-conscious. He finally pulled his sleeves down over his knuckles to hide them and the bruises.

“Mr. Iero? Dr. Bryar will see you now.”

Frank then made himself comfortable in Bob’s exam room, settling in for another wait. He’d been seeing Bob for his various medical issues since he was in his teens, anyway, and he was used to waiting by now.

“You’d better not have the flu again,” Bob said when he walked in, holding Frank’s thick file open in one hand.

Frank grinned. “Don’t think so. Gerard just sent me in for a check-up, I think.”

“Yeah, that’s what he told me. Been getting into fights recently?”

“A couple.” Frank held out his hands. “Nothing broken, though.”

Bob gently raised Frank’s knuckles to eye-level and stared closely. He prodded one bruise, but Frank didn’t flinch. Frank had been expecting it. “Gerard said you knocked down a door,” Bob muttered distractedly. “What happened?”

“I knocked down a door,” Frank replied happily. It was fun to annoy Bob, because he was a doctor and he didn’t hurt people. “My shoulder was sore for a while, but I think it’ll be fine.”

“Take off your shirt, let me see. And then you need an up-to-date flu shot, ‘cause I know you’ll go out of your way trying to get sick.”

Frank wiggled out of his hoodie and his t-shirt at the same time, taking care not to move in a way that would make his shoulder twinge. When Bob turned back around to find Frank shirtless, he sighed.

“Frankie.”

“What?”

Bob trailed a finger from Frank’s shoulder to his ribs, and yeah, okay, that hurt a little. “You’ve got a bruise the size of New Jersey here. What was this door made of, titanium?”

“Okay, so I haven’t had much practice breaking down doors. Now I know.”

Bob lifted Frank’s arms and pressed his knuckles lightly into another bruise on his chest. It was about the size of Bob’s fist. “Did the door hit back?”

“No, that was another guy. He didn’t hit very hard, though. I’ll be fine.”

“Does anything else hurt?” Bob asked wearily.

“Nope.”

“Alright. A nurse will give you your shot, then you’re free to go. And if you come in here sick in the next few weeks, I will hurt you.”

“I will try my very best not to contract a fatal disease,” Frank said with his best innocent smile. “Hey, um.” Bob stopped at the door and looked back at him expectantly. “Has Gerard been in for his flu shot?”

“No, he’s been putting it off,” Bob replied. “Remind him, would you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

***

Back at home, Frank was once again lying on the sofa in Gerard’s office, but he couldn’t find a position comfortable enough to let him sleep. One shoulder ached from its run-in with a door, and the other ached from the stupid flu shot. Frank groaned and flipped over onto his stomach, burying his face in the musty cushion.

“Everything okay?” Gerard asked.

“Bob wants you in for your flu shot,” Frank mumbled. “Also, I can’t get comfortable.”

“Ugh,” Gerard groaned. “I’ll get the fucking shot. Eventually.”

Frank turned over again. “Why’d you schedule me an appointment, anyway? I haven’t been sick or anything lately.”

Gerard shrugged, then sighed. “It’s flu season, and people have been sick, and you have the immune system of a sponge. I really can’t afford you spending time in the hospital right now.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, well. You hate hospitals, so you’d better get that shot, too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gerard replied, waving him off. “You should go upstairs and rest, you look pretty beat.”

“But what about the meeting—”

“It’s not for a few hours,” Gerard said warmly. “Go on up. Maybe take a bath and soak your shoulder.”

The idea of a hot bath sounded pretty irresistible. Frank pushed himself off the couch and stumbled towards the door. “I’ll be back later,” he said, giving Gerard a grateful smile.

“I’m counting on it.”

***

Frank stayed at Gerard’s shoulder during the entire meeting. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, not even his dad’s; he stared straight ahead, at the closed door, or watched Gerard and concentrated on keeping a neutral expression on his face.

Gerard was as smooth and controlled as ever, and if Frank hadn’t known that he was on edge, he never would have guessed. It was like every other Family meeting Gerard had ever conducted. He smiled, he was polite and friendly, and he listened when the other men talked. As they were filing out, he called Franco back.

As soon as the door closed and it was just the three of them in the room, Gerard stood up and asked, “Who?”

Franco’s gaze darted over to Frank, but Frank kept his face a blank mask. “There’s nobody,” his dad replied nervously.

“I want you to test everyone. Every single one of them. Check them out. And then I want names.” Gerard’s hands were in fists on top of his desk. He looked scary as fuck. “Understand?”

Franco clenched his jaw and said, “Yes, sir.”

“You can go.”

The door opened and closed again, and Gerard deflated, sinking into his chair with his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he sighed. “Fuck, Frankie.”

Frank put his hand on Gerard’s shoulder and squeezed once in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Frank started to worry about how stressed this was making Gerard.

“Tell me you’re still mine,” Gerard said without lifting his head. “Tell me you’re still on my side.”

Frank sank to his knees beside Gerard’s chair to look up at him through the mess of black hair falling in front of his face. “Always, Gee,” he whispered, smiling softly. “I’m yours.”

***

When Frank left Gerard’s office, he found his father in the lounge, smoking. A glance at the ashtray told him that Franco was on his third cigarette. “I thought you’d left,” Frank said casually, digging into his pocket for his own pack. His dad obviously wanted to talk to him.

“I don’t know what that boy thinks he’s doing, but—”

“Who?” Frank asked, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach.

“Fucking _Gerard_ ,” Franco spat while Frank was lighting his cigarette. Frank’s hand shook. He took a breath and concentrated on holding the flame steady. He wanted to remind Franco that they were in Gerard’s house, that Gerard was their boss, but his dad kept speaking. “He can’t throw that shit out there in the middle of a fucking meeting and then order me to check my guys as if I didn’t trust them. I do trust them, and so should he,” Franco finished, jabbing his finger towards Gerard’s office.

“He’s just being careful,” Frank shot back defensively. He looked down and watched the tip of his cigarette burning, watched as the paper turned brown and black. “He has to be careful who he trusts, especially now.”

“He’s acting like he doesn’t trust us,” Franco said bitterly. Frank didn’t answer, and his silence was enough for Franco to fill in the blanks. “Oh, fuck, Frankie, don’t tell me you’re buying into his bullshit. I’m your father—”

“He has a point,” Frank interrupted sharply. “Test your men. I’ll see you Friday.”

Frank ground out his cigarette in the glass ashtray, then turned on his heel and stormed upstairs to his bedroom. Even Frank could admit that his father’s attitude was suspicious, and that Gerard was probably right to have doubts. If Gerard couldn’t control his own caporegimi, things would get bad really fast. Frank didn’t know if Gerard was prepared for that, or if he had even considered the possibility. He hoped Gerard wasn’t stumbling forward blindly.

***


	5. part 4

For once, Frank was already asleep when Gerard crept into his bedroom. He felt the mattress dip under Gerard’s weight and his eyelids fluttered open. After a moment, he could make out Gerard’s outline in the darkness, and then his sad smile, almost lost beneath the mess of long hair falling in front of his face.

“Gee?” Frank asked cautiously. He reached for Gerard, pulled him by the hand to lie down, and rubbed his shoulder.

“I can’t sleep,” Gerard whispered, once he’d situated himself on Frank’s pillow.

“Try counting sheep?” Frank asked to lighten the mood. Gerard shook his head.

“I’m so scared all the time, Frankie,” Gerard said, and he really did look frightened and exhausted. Frank squeezed his shoulder. “I’m so afraid that someone will come in and kill me in my sleep, and half the time, I don’t even care.” Frank opened his mouth to voice his protest, but Gerard cut him off. “I almost want it to happen, sometimes,” he said, “because it would make everything so much easier. And just thinking that scares me, Frankie.”

Frank pulled Gerard into a one-armed hug. “Nothing’s going to happen, Gee, I promise. I won’t let anybody hurt you,” he whispered. “I’ll protect you, always.”

“How can you protect me always?” Gerard asked, and if it had been any other time, Frank would’ve thought Gerard was teasing him. He sounded alarmingly serious now, though.

“I won’t let you out of my sight. I won’t sleep. I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear.”

But Gerard pushed him away and gave him that same sad, accepting smile. “You’re sleeping now, Frankie.”

Frank jolted upright, eyes wide and heart pounding. He was alone. The clock read 3:42am. Frank had no idea where Gerard was, if he’d gone to bed or stayed down in his office to work, or if he’d been murdered while Frank was sleeping.

Frank shook his head. Gerard was fine. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down, but the panic didn’t recede. He needed to know, for sure, if Gerard was okay. Frank tiptoed to his door and cracked it open. The hall lights were off, and he couldn’t see the tell-tale glow of lights on downstairs, which meant that Gerard had probably gone to bed. Unless he was sleeping in his office, which he’d done a few times recently. Frank crept down the hall and pressed his ear to Gerard’s door, but he couldn’t distinguish any sounds from within.

He took a breath and held it, and very, very carefully opened Gerard’s door. He slipped inside and closed it behind him, and when he saw the lump of blankets and pillows breathing on the bed, he exhaled in relief. His chest didn’t feel quite so tight anymore. Frank sat down on the floor and leaned back against the wall. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been.

Why had he gone to bed before Gerard? Why hadn’t he waited up, to be there if Gerard needed him? He supposed he could technically go back to bed, now that he’d seen Gerard, alive and well, with his own eyes, but what if someone snuck in and Frank wasn’t there to protect him? He could feel his anxiety levels rising again and decided it would be better to stay on Gerard’s floor, just in case.

Frank rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled closer to the bed, so he could see Gerard’s face. Just to be absolutely sure. Frank finally settled with his knees pulled to his chest, leaning sideways against Gerard’s nightstand. It was soothing, watching Gerard’s chest rise and fall in a steady, constant rhythm, and Frank concentrated on that, trying to relax.

Frank didn’t know how long he sat there, watching Gerard sleep, but at some point, Gerard woke up. He blinked at Frank as if unsure whether he was real, then finally whispered, “Frankie?”

Frank jumped, even Gerard’s whisper sounded loud in the silent room. “I’m sorry,” Frank said quickly, “I just—”

“C’mere,” Gerard interrupted, patting the bed. He scooted back a little and lifted the blankets for Frank to crawl under. “C’mon, Frankie, come up here.”

Frank reluctantly climbed up into Gerard’s bed and they lay quietly for a moment, watching each other and breathing in sync. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, and felt a weird sense of déjà-vu from his dream. “I’m sorry.”

“S’ok,” Gerard replied sleepily. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Gerard pulled him in close for a hug, and again, it was just like Frank’s dream, only opposite. Frank watched Gerard close his eyes again, and he whispered, “It’s okay now, Frankie. Go to sleep.”

It took a long time for Frank to finally fall asleep, even as comforted as he was by Gerard’s peaceful face and steady breaths.

***

Frank woke up the next morning when Gerard rolled out of bed. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out why he wasn’t in his own bedroom, and then Gerard reached over and brushed Frank’s hair off his forehead.

“Go back to sleep,” he said softly, “I’m just going to take a shower.”

Frank nodded and closed his eyes obediently, but he didn’t sleep. He listened for the sound of the water turning on in the en suite bathroom. Last night’s panic attack was over, but the reasons for it remained, and by the time Gerard came out of the shower, Frank had given up trying to sleep and was sitting upright on Gerard’s bed, waiting for him.

Gerard appeared in the doorway fully dressed, though his hair was still wet, and came over to sit on the edge of the bed. He bent down and put on his shoes. He didn’t speak, and he didn’t look at Frank other than when he’d come into the room. Frank felt weird, sitting there in his t-shirt and boxers, like he was intruding on Gerard’s routine. He wasn’t sure if he should just leave or wait for Gerard to say something, or if Gerard expected him to explain.

But then Gerard touched his blanket-covered knee and asked, “You okay?”

“I think so, yeah,” Frank replied in a strangled voice. “I should get dressed.”

“I’m sending you out with Chris today,” Gerard said.

“You’re—Wait, what?”

“You’re with Chris today,” Gerard said again, his forehead creased in confusion.

“I want to stay here,” Frank said quickly. “I mean, I’d rather stay here, with you, if that’s okay.” He hoped Gerard wouldn’t ask him why; Frank didn’t want to make Gerard more paranoid than he was already.

“I thought you wanted to—” Gerard began.

“I want to stay with you. If that’s okay.”

“Okay, yeah,” Gerard finally answered. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Gerard nodded. “Okay, I’ll send Worm with him.”

The next few days went by in a blur of Frank wasting time in Gerard’s office and not getting enough sleep. He didn’t go to bed before Gerard anymore, even when Gerard stayed up until three in the morning working, and he waited out in the hall until he saw Gerard’s bedroom light turn off before finally, reluctantly retreating to his own room. He kept his ears trained on the room next door, listening for any unusual sounds through the shared wall.

Frank was aware that he was acting a little obsessive, but then they received word that two of their guys, Joey and Matthew, had been gunned down only two blocks from the house. Frank figured his fears were justified.

***

Staying up late with Gerard played hell on Frank’s sleep schedule, and some nights, the insomnia got so bad that he didn’t even bother going up to bed. Which is why he was in the kitchen at six in the morning when Alicia appeared, her hair mussed and eyeliner smeared, and started making herself a cup of coffee.

“Alicia,” Frank said in surprise. He hadn’t even known she was in the house, and that scared him more than a little.

“Hey, Frankie,” she replied calmly, as if it hadn’t been months since they’d last seen each other. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Frank explained. “What are you doing here, are you and Mikey—”

Alicia shrugged. “Kind of.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Frank asked sharply. “Is this still about those girls?”

She waved his words and the steam from her coffee away. “No, I know he didn’t sleep with them.”

“He loves you,” Frank said.

“I know,” Alicia replied.

Frank lit a cigarette. “Do you love him?” He didn’t care if he was being blunt.

Alicia nodded and answered Frank’s next question before he even had time to phrase it. “I just don’t like what you do, Frankie. I don’t like that Mikey’s caught up in it, and he won’t give up this life. Not for me.”

“He’s not part of this life,” Frank said earnestly. “He loves Gerard, and the Family, but he hasn’t been part of it since he was in college.”

“Frank, don’t try to lie to me—” Alicia began.

“No, seriously, Alicia… Mikey’s just Gerard’s brother.”

Alicia was quiet for a moment, sipping her coffee. “I still don’t approve,” she finally replied.

“Mikey doesn’t want this life,” Frank said. “He wants a life with you.”

“So, Frankie,” Alicia said, an obvious change of subject. “Why are you up, besides playing relationship guru?” Frank blushed but Alicia pressed on. “Are you having girlfriend issues too?”

“No,” Frank answered immediately. “I just haven’t been sleeping.”

“You look wrecked,” Alicia pointed out. Frank knew he looked awful; exhaustion and worry had created dark shadows under his eyes and his skin tone was nearly as pale as Gerard’s. “What’s keeping you up, hon?”

Frank sighed heavily and rested his head on one arm. “Just worrying. I’m just worried all the fucking time, and I can’t stop. I’m going insane.”

Alicia covered one of Frank’s hands with her own. “Sounds a lot like love to me,” she said, and smiled. “Wish I could help you, babe.”

***

Two days after his conversation with Alicia, her words finally sank in. “Sounds a lot like love,” she’d said, and Frank realized she was right. He’d loved Gerard all his life as a cousin, a brother, a friend, but Frank’s recent obsession seemed like something different, something more than that. Frank didn’t feel the same way about Gerard as he felt about the rest of the Family. Gerard had always been a little bit different. Frank considered Gerard his best friend. That was probably all it was, their close friendship making Frank think about Gerard all the time, worry about him day and night. That could easily be the reason Frank would gladly lay down his life to protect Gerard.

Somehow, though, he knew it wasn’t. The reason for Frank’s behavior had nothing to do with their friendship, or maybe everything to do with it, he wasn’t sure. He’d been closer, growing up, to Mark, and even a little closer to Mikey than Gerard throughout high school and while Gerard had been in New York, and Frank wasn’t in love with either of them.

He couldn’t be in love with Gerard. Gerard was his friend, his _boss_ , and Frank wasn’t delusional enough to think that anything could ever, _ever_ happen between them. And he wasn’t good enough at denial to convince himself that he didn’t _want_ something to happen between them. He could remember the feel of every touch Gerard gave him, and he wanted more of that.

“Shit,” Frank said to himself, under his breath so Gerard wouldn’t hear and ask what was wrong. Frank couldn’t possibly answer.

He glanced over at Gerard; he was hunched over his desk, black dress shirt partially unbuttoned with a t-shirt peeking out from underneath, and his long black hair falling from behind his ear. Frank wanted to tuck it back for him. It wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to, either.

“Fucking _shit_ ,” Frank breathed. He needed a drink.

Frank stormed into the kitchen, angry at himself for being such a fucking idiot to fall in love with somebody like Gerard, and swung open the refrigerator with unnecessary violence. “Do we have any beer?” he snapped at Mark, who was eating some of Frank’s leftover veggie lasagna.

“It’s the middle of the day, Frank,” Mark answered with a chuckle. “And no, we don’t.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank said. “Like you haven’t gotten drunk at noon before.”

Mark held up his hands, a gesture of peace, and said, “Jesus, Frank, chill. What the hell’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Frank hissed. He glared at Mark’s plate.

Mark pushed it across the table to Frank. “Okay, okay,” he said quickly, “I’m sorry I stole your leftovers.”

Frank shot him a sour look and grabbed Mark’s fork to finish off the lasagna.

***

Frank really liked living in Gerard’s old bedroom; it had been his favorite since he and Mikey were sharing the smaller room across the hall. When Gerard moved into the master suite, Frank had offered the room to Mikey, but Mikey insisted on staying in his own room. Frank wasn’t really sure why Gerard had given it to him instead of Mark or Tony, since they’d also moved in full-time, but, as with the position of consigliere, he was grateful for it.

All through high school, Gerard had painted crazy shit all over the walls. Gothic castles and vampires and bats and Mikey’s fucking unicorn. There used to be spiders and realistic-looking cobwebs in every corner, too, but Gerard painted over them when Frank moved into the room. While he was at it, he also painted a huge red and gold dragon on the ceiling.

The dragon was Frank’s favorite thing about the room, and he’d told Gerard on more than one occasion that if he had any room left on his arms, he would’ve gotten it tattooed. Gerard always laughed and shook his head like he thought Frank was crazy.

Frank already had several of Gerard’s designs on his body; the crossed guns on his lower back, the swallows on his hips, and the Virgin Mary on his forearm were his favorites. He liked having something of Gerard’s on his skin permanently, and it was only now dawning on him why.

He couldn’t look around the room anymore without thinking about Gerard: his face creased with concern whenever Frank came home covered in blood, the secretive smile he reserved just for Frank, the way he became totally focused when he was drawing, and the happy, proud look in his eyes when Frank showed him the finished tattoos.

Frank didn’t know when exactly loving Gerard as a friend had turned into something else, but he tried not to dwell on it much. It was all just a fantasy, anyway. He stared up at the dragon, remembering Gerard planning it out, excitedly showing Frank the sketches and asking for his approval, since it would be Frank’s bedroom. He remembered the way Gerard’s hair fell in his eyes when he leaned over his desk, and that memory morphed into others: the way his fingertips felt on Frank’s arm, and how the creases by his lips curved when he smiled.

“Shit,” he breathed, feeling himself getting hard. Frank slid his right hand slowly beneath his blanket, over his chest, lingering on his waist, tracing by memory the lines of the bird tattoos that Gerard had drawn for him. His boxers were already sitting low on his hips and Frank pushed his fingers beneath the elastic waistband.

He was lying on Gerard’s old bed, in Gerard’s old room, about to jerk off to thoughts of Gerard’s stupidly beautiful face smiling at him. And if that wasn’t fucked up enough, he could hear Gerard through the walls; in the next room over, he was talking quietly on the phone to Vinnie.

“I am so. Fucked,” he growled at the dragon above him. Then Frank closed his eyes tightly and just went for it. He pushed his boxers down to his thighs and made a loose fist around his dick, already hard from his stupid mind-wanderings about Gerard. “Shit,” he murmured again, biting his lip.

He got in a few good strokes, slow and firm, enough to make his breath catch, before Mikey and Mark burst in, drunk, with Tony on their heels.

“Jesus fuck, Mikey!” Frank shrieked, clutching at the blanket with his left hand. It was pulled up to his chin already, but he wanted to make damn sure it stayed there. “Mark! Get the fuck out!”

Mikey rolled his eyes and waved a hand expressively. He looked sort of like Gerard when he did that. Frank blinked hard and then it was just Mikey again.

“What?” Mikey slurred. “S’not like you have a… a… a girl in here or anythin’.”

Behind him, Mark cackled. “Yeah, man, when was the last time you got _laid_?”

Tony sighed the long-suffering sigh that he’d been sighing since he was twelve.

“Tony, get them out!” Frank cried. He tried to subtly pull his boxers back up to his hips, in case he had to actually get out of bed and force them out of his room. Gerard’s room. His room. Jesus Christ.

“I had enough trouble getting them in the fucking house, alright?” Tony snapped. Frank wasn’t in the mood to feel sorry for him. “Come on, guys. Frank’s like, sleeping or something.”

“Jerking off!” Mikey crowed, giggling.

“Dude, can I borrow some porn?” Mark asked.

“No!” Frank shouted. “Get the fuck out right now or I will fuck you up, I swear to god.”

They heard Gerard pound on the wall behind Frank’s head. “Shut the fuck up, all of you,” he said loudly. The obnoxiously drunk boys giggled and Tony sighed again. Frank flopped back to his pillows and stared up at the dragon. A minute later, he heard his door close and Mikey’s stereo start blasting. The Smiths. He was probably moping over Alicia again. It always got worse when he was drunk.

Gerard marched out into the hallway. Frank could picture every step clearly in his mind. “Mikey Way!” he shouted, knocking loudly on Mikey’s door. “It’s two in the fucking morning, go to sleep.”

The music was lowered to a less deafening volume. Frank heard a knock on his own door. Gerard didn’t wait for permission, though, he just cracked the door open and poked his head in. Frank was really fucking glad the blanket was still pulled to his chin.

“Were you sleeping?” Gerard asked. Frank shook his head. “I know you’ve been kind of stressed lately.”

“Yeah, well, we all have been, I think,” Frank replied. “I’ll be fine. Are you okay?” Gerard gave him a weary smile and shrugged his shoulders. Frank nodded. “Get some sleep, Gee.”

Gerard looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You too, Frankie.”

***

Mikey dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “Frankie.”

Frank sat down beside him and snagged his coffee mug. It was cold, though, and had way too much cream and not enough sugar. Frank made a disgusted face. “I don’t know how you drink this shit. What’s up? Hangover?”

“No. Well, yeah, but it’s more than that. The family’s coming for Christmas,” he said, though his words were muffled by the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

“Wait, your family, or the _Family_?”

“Both,” Mikey whined. “Everybody. It’ll be noisy, and my aunt will complain that I don’t have a girlfriend, and then everyone will try to fix me up with Maria, even though she’s my fucking cousin—”

“Actually, she’s my cousin,” Frank broke in casually.

“Not her,” Mikey mumbled. “The other one. Maria Santoro.”

“Oh. Oh, but dude, she’s hot!” Frank nudged Mikey’s arm encouragingly, and Mikey nearly slid off the table. “Oh, right, cousin. Sorry.” He noticed that Mikey hadn’t said that Alicia was his girlfriend, so he assumed they were still having problems in that department.

“And there’s still this whole thing with Gerard and people trying to kill him and other people dying and Tony keeps bitching to me about Mark and they fight all the time and I really, really, really don’t want to deal with this right now. I want coffee,” he said, all without taking a breath.

“Are you still drunk?” Frank asked, his eyes wide. Mikey didn’t usually talk so much. He stood up to make a fresh pot of coffee. Mikey looked like he needed it.

“If I’m not, can I be?” Mikey lifted his head and stared blearily up at Frank. Not drunk, then, just hungover.

Frank sat down again and rubbed Mikey’s back. “You and Alicia didn’t get back together?” he asked cautiously.

“Ugh!” Mikey collapsed back onto his arms with a wail. “No! She dumped me. Again. For good.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “You’ve been hung up on her since sophomore year. She’ll take you back. Eventually.”

“She won’t listen.” Mikey’s hair flopped as he shook his head and Frank ran his fingers through it. It wasn’t as long as Gerard’s, but the kid needed a haircut. They all did; Frank’s hair was nearly to his shoulders. None of them had been taking particularly good care of themselves lately.

“Maybe it was your stupid hair,” Frank teased quietly. Alicia had been with Mikey through stupider haircuts. “When did this happen?”

“A few days ago. She pisses me off.”

That may be, but Mikey was moping. He always moped about Alicia. Frank ruffled his hair. “You love her, though.”

“Ugh,” Mikey replied. Frank took that as agreement.

***

“Yeah. Yeah, Maria, I know. Yes, I know that, but we’re not going to have enough room… Of course, yeah, you can have… No, but listen, there’s not enough room for everyone here. I can get a deal… No, sure, yeah. Of course. Well, yeah, Aunt Maria, but…”

Frank took a few steps into the office and jerked his thumb toward the door questioningly. Gerard shook his head and waved him in.

“No, I don’t,” Gerard was saying wearily. “Things are kind of crazy right now, it’s dangerous—I haven’t had a chance to meet anybody…”

Frank rolled his eyes. Gerard’s aunt asked Gerard and Mikey about their love lives during every single phone call.

“No, I don’t know what Mikey’s doing. I don’t know. He’s… out, I dunno.”

 _Alicia dumped him. Again_ , Frank mouthed. Gerard rolled his eyes and covered his face with his free hand.

“Sure, Maria, I’ll tell him. Mark’s fine, yeah. He’s… out, I don’t know, probably with Mikey. Yeah. Listen, Frankie’s here, and I’ve got another call, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Yeah, I’ll call you. Yes, I will. I _will_. Love you, too. Bye.” Gerard put down the handset and sighed loudly. “Fuck.”

“Mikey said you’re inviting everybody over for Christmas. Fuck, Gerard…”

“Yeah, well… The Family needs that right now. Some kind of… celebration. A unifying thing. And it’s _Christmas_.” He rubbed at his temples, as if already fighting off the impending headache of having the entire Family, both blood relatives and not, in the same house during the holidays. “At least we can trust them now. I mean, enough people have fucking _died_ … So Alicia dumped him again?”

“Yeah, he’s moping. And hungover.”

“Perfect,” Gerard groaned. “Can you, like… get Mark to take him out and get him wasted or something? Make him feel better?”

“I think that’s what he was trying to do last night,” Frank replied, dropping into the chair across from Gerard. “But now he and Tony and at each other’s throats and Vinnie’s fed up with them, and Mikey’s got too much of a headache to deal. And no way in hell am I dragging anybody else into this stupid mess. Anyone else would just kill one of ‘em.”

“Probably Alicia.”

“And then Mikey would want to kill them.”

“And then himself. They’d be like Romeo and Juliet.”

“Star-crossed lovers.”

“And that would just be a bad situation.”

“Especially with the Family coming to visit,” Frank finished, grinning. It’d been far too long since they’d had the opportunity to joke around like this, and Frank was surprised at how much he missed it.

Gerard actually laughed, and that was another thing Frank missed desperately. “Yeah, exactly. So… Okay, here’s the plan. You tell Mikey to suck it up, and then you make everybody get along by decorating the house before people start appearing at our doorstep. I can’t believe we’re having a fucking party right now.”

“My Aunt Angela and Stephanie will want to bake things,” Frank added. “Should I invite them over?”

Gerard shuddered. “Ugh, no. Tell them to make food at their own houses. And for God’s sake, don’t tell Stephanie I’m single.”

“I think all our aunts keep her informed,” Frank said sadly. “I swear to God, she sent me an email a few days ago about making you dinner or some shit like that, to cheer you up.”

“Ugh!” Gerard flapped his hands at Frank for a minute, looking like a teenage girl. “Make her go away, Frankie.” His head thunked down on the desk and he groaned. “I hate Christmas.”

Frank stood up and ruffled Gerard’s hair. “You won’t when you see my present!”

“Shit, presents,” Gerard groaned. “If you tell me you’ve already finished your Christmas shopping, I will hate you.”

Frank remained silent.

“I hate you, Frankie. When the hell did you have time to go fucking _Christmas shopping_?”

Frank couldn’t resist. He giggled and bent over the desk to press a kiss to the top of Gerard’s head. Then he ruffled Gerard’s hair again. “If it makes you feel better, you don’t have to get me anything.”

Gerard sat up. “No, I already have something for you,” he said quietly, looking up at Frank through a curtain of tangled hair. “It’s everyone else I still need to buy for.”

Frank skipped out of the office before Gerard could see him beaming.

***

Frank’s happy Christmas spirit didn’t even last through the rest of the day. Frank’s cousin Stephanie and his Aunt Angela, both bottle-blonde chatterboxes, insisted on helping prepare the house for the holidays and they invited themselves over that very afternoon. The house had a limited number of guest rooms, and the two women snagged the one right next door to Frank.

Gerard took to hiding in his office—which was pretty much his usual habitat, but now he actually locked the door—or his bedroom, leaving Frank to fend them off.

Stephanie’s overtly-flirtatious behavior toward Gerard had Mikey rolling his eyes constantly and Frank snapping at her every time she spoke. He couldn’t help feeling jealous, even though Gerard insisted at every turn that he didn’t ever want to pursue a relationship with her. _Ever_. She didn’t stop coming on to Gerard even after other people started showing up.

On only the third night of her stay, Mikey pulled him into the hall and whispered, “Maybe we could set her up with Mark. He’ll fuck anything that moves.”

“Ew!” Frank cried, covering his eyes. “She’s my cousin! I don’t want to know.”

“Better Mark than _Gerard_.”

This was true, Frank had to admit.

“He’s my _brother_ ,” Mikey continued. “I’d rather not think of him having sex, like, _ever_. With anyone.”

Frank smiled, picturing Gerard’s soft eyes and crooked smile, and how much he wanted to kiss it.

“You’re thinking of him having sex, aren’t you?” Mikey said, glaring at him. “Ew, _Frank_!”

Frank was actually thinking of the way Gerard chewed on his fingernails when he was thinking, but he laughed anyway, because it was obviously what Mikey expected of him. Mikey hit him on the shoulder, and he cuffed Mikey on the back of the head (lightly, of course, because it was Mikey and Mikey was a fucking lightweight) and ran off down the hall, nearly tripping over a kid in the process.

“Anthony, what the—” Frank spluttered as he regained his balance by using Anthony’s head. “Hey listen, if Uncle Mikey comes after me, trip him, okay?”

Anthony was an annoying brat, and he grinned evilly at the chance to cause mayhem. Frank sometimes thought the kid was possessed or something.

“Great.” Frank took off down the hall again and tried the door to Gerard’s office, finding it unlocked. He went in.

Gerard was on the phone, and he didn’t even look up when Frank entered. He was hunched over his desk, and his knuckles were white, he was gripping the handset so tightly. Frank frowned.

“You don’t want to fucking see me angry,” Gerard hissed. His teeth were clenched tight and Frank could see the vein pulsing in the side of his neck. “You will fucking regret it, I swear to God. If I hear one more piece of bullshit out of you, if I even hear a fucking _rumor_ about you talking shit and fucking _lying_ to my face, I swear, I _swear_ , I will fucking end you. Understand? Do you fucking understand me, you fucking piece of shit?”

Frank was frozen in the middle of the room. Apparently he wasn’t the only one running low on Christmas cheer. Frank had almost forgotten Gerard’s situation in light of the holiday frenzy.

Gerard was quiet as he listened to the person on the phone, but then he exploded. “Fuck you,” he shouted, and slammed the phone down on his desk.

“Gerard—”

“Shut up, Frank,” Gerard snapped, not even glancing at him.

“Um…” Frank clenched his fists and stuffed them into his pockets.

“Get out of here.”

Frank narrowed his eyes at Gerard and lifted a hand tentatively. “Gee—”

“Get the fuck out, Frank.”

Frank nodded and left without another word, taking the stairs two at a time and shutting himself in his bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he’d just witnessed, and he didn’t know why it pissed Gerard off so much, but… Something wasn’t right, even by recent standards, and it was giving Frank a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He stood, leaning against the door, for several minutes, panting as if he’d run a mile, then in a flurry of movement, he snatched his coat off the top of his dresser and headed for the front door. He needed to get the fuck out, just like Gerard had said.

Gerard was out in the hallway when Frank passed, but Frank ignored him. Gerard didn’t say anything.

Frank yanked the coat over his arms and stepped over Anthony again—what the fuck was the stupid kid doing sitting in the middle of the fucking hallway, anyway?—and left without a word. He walked a few blocks north, and when it started snowing, he stopped to light a cigarette.

The first drag felt like fire in his throat and he coughed; the winter air was playing hell on his lungs. Frank sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke and breath-mist. He sank down into a crouch and rested his elbows on his knees. He was being immature, he knew that. He was being a fucking idiot, leaving the house. Just because Gerard had snapped at him didn’t mean… It didn’t mean anything, really. Gerard was allowed to snap at whomever he fucking wanted to snap at.

Who was he to walk out on Gerard like that? He had no fucking right. No matter what their personal relationship was, Gerard was his _boss_ , and he was allowed to treat Frank however the fuck he fucking wanted to. Frank’s stupid feelings for Gerard were making him irrational.

He pulled the smoke into his lungs and held his breath until he felt dizzy. His phone rang. It was Gerard. Of course. Frank answered it but didn’t say anything.

“Frank, come home.”

Half of Frank’s brain, the sane half, wanted to scream _I’m sorry!_ , but the other half was keeping his lips clamped shut around his cigarette and seething with misplaced anger.

“Frankie—”

Frank hung up on him. He regretted it instantly, but not enough to call Gerard back. He leaned back, resting his weight on his heels, and smoked. He knew he was sulking. He was being an idiot. But he couldn’t make himself move.

He was halfway through his third cigarette when he heard footsteps approaching, crunching through the thin layer of snow that coated the sidewalk. Frank turned his head and found Gerard walking confidently towards him, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in his pockets. The collar of his coat was turned up, and there were snowflakes peppering his black hair. Gerard’s nose and cheeks were flushed red. He looked really fucking pretty, even though he wasn’t smiling.

“What the fuck are you doing out here alone?” Frank asked, rising smoothly to his feet in an instant. He flicked the ash off the end of his cig.

“I’m not alone,” Gerard replied pointedly. “I’m sorry, Frankie.”

Frank offered Gerard the cigarette, glancing suspiciously at him. Gerard wasn’t known for making apologies.

“I was angry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” Gerard took a drag and handed it back to Frank. He looked over at Gerard, expecting to see the nervous ticks he’d picked up recently: darting eyes, lip-biting. But Gerard was just watching him calmly; he didn’t seem paranoid about being outside at all.

“I’m an idiot,” Frank muttered. “I’m sorry I ran out. That was stupid.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gerard said warmly. “Come home?”

Frank sighed.

“Please? Frankie, your cousin’s going to pin mistletoe to her breasts and start lurking around corners. Please come home.”

Gerard held out his hand, and Frank took it. He flicked the cigarette away and reached up to pluck a clump of snow out of Gerard’s hair. It melted when he touched it, but he held his wet fingers up for Gerard to see anyway, as if they would explain what he’d just done.

Gerard smiled and tugged at his hand. “C’mon, it’s cold out here.”

Frank kept his eyes peeled for any sign of danger on the way back. He didn’t have his gun, they didn’t have any back-up—they were just two small-ish guys walking down the sidewalk _holding hands_. Frank considered them lucky for not getting shot. He only relaxed once Gerard was safely inside the door.

***

Gerard didn’t explain the phone conversation Frank had walked in on, and Frank didn’t ask. They survived the next few days with their cousins by making themselves as scarce as possible, and Frank stuck to Gerard like glue. Gerard didn’t seem to mind, though, and to Frank’s knowledge, there hadn’t been any more angry phone calls. Everyone seemed pretty convinced that the danger had passed, or at least lessened during the Christmas holidays.

Most of the guests started arriving a week before Christmas, beginning with Gerard’s aunt. As expected, she complained about all of the boys’ long, messy hair, and clicked her tongue disapprovingly at how exhausted they all looked. Then she started in on them—particularly Gerard—about their lack of girlfriends, and at that point, Stephanie interjected herself and her cleavage into the conversation, much to Gerard’s alarm. Mikey mumbled Alicia’s name as an excuse and disappeared, along with Tony.

Maria and most of the women of the Family barricaded themselves in the kitchen and gossiped, and it was almost exactly how Frank remembered Christmas as a child, except now there was slightly less Italian thrown into the bilingual conversations.

Besides sneaking a few freshly-baked cookies for himself and Gerard, Frank avoided the kitchen. Mark, on the other hand, never left the kitchen, so Frank started avoiding him, too.

The large house had enough rooms to hold a lot of their blood relatives, and Gerard had insisted on making reservations at a ritzy hotel for everyone who couldn’t stay with him. As it was, Frank was sharing his room with Anthony and Nicholas, who were both somewhere around ten years old. Frank didn’t really know for sure.

Mikey was bunking with Mark and Tony, and their other cousin Joe, but Mark slept in Mikey’s room almost every night anyway, so that wasn’t anything too unusual.

Frank had to deal with _kids_. Who the fuck made that happen?

The good part of the deal was that the boys thought Gerard’s crazy murals were the coolest things in the world, much like Frank’s feelings about them, and they also had a nine o’clock bedtime, a good four hours before Frank usually went to bed, if he went to bed at all.

***

Christmas Eve, during the huge traditional dinner, Frank _finally_ figured out what was wrong. His father wasn’t there.

Gerard sat at the head of the main table, Mikey on his right side and Vinnie on his left, and Frank was several places down from him, so he couldn’t lean over and whisper in Gerard’s ear. He frowned down at his plate, pasta and salad without the meat sauce and the salami and cheese appetizer.

The volume of dinner-chatter continued to rise as more and more alcohol was consumed, but Frank didn’t really participate. He kept glancing over at Gerard, who seemed to be avoiding meeting Frank’s gaze.

When Gerard excused himself to go to the bathroom, Frank was right on his heels.

“Gerard, what the fuck is going on?” he asked, following Gerard right into the bathroom. He locked the door behind them.

“Frank, not now,” Gerard said sternly. “I will tell you, I will tell you _everything_ , but not now.”

Frank pushed Gerard against the wall. He didn’t hold him there, though, because he did still have a little bit of common sense left. “No, you tell me now, Gerard. What the fuck is going on?”

Gerard’s eyes flashed with anger, and Frank shrank away from him. “Don’t you fucking do that, Frank.”

“M’sorry,” Frank whispered. And yeah, fuck, it was dangerous to try and threaten _Gerard_.

Gerard put his hand on Frank’s shoulder, his grip surprisingly gentle. “We’re going to go back out there and have a pleasant evening, do you understand me?”

Frank nodded. Gerard didn’t usually use that phrase on him, ‘Do you understand me?’, and it sounded strange passing his lips. The tone of Gerard’s voice made Frank believe that Gerard would fuck him up if Frank disobeyed.

“Yeah, got it,” Frank murmured.

Gerard exhaled sharply. He slid his hand down Frank’s arm and rubbed him for a few seconds, almost like he was petting him, before turning around and leaving Frank alone in the bathroom.

***

While Gerard and Mikey and the rest of the men of the family sat around the lounge drinking and talking in low tones, Frank escaped upstairs to read the kids _The Night Before Christmas_. Anthony was a brat, as usual, but Nicholas and his little sister, Angelica, were captivated by the story. Frank even read certain parts in stupid voices for them.

All three of them fell asleep, even Anthony, curled up on the floor with their blankets and pillows. Frank lay back on the bed and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Gerard’s paintings, and he was almost drifting off to sleep himself when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Come with me,” Gerard whispered, tugging a bit at Frank’s t-shirt.

Frank yawned and followed Gerard to Gerard’s bedroom. Sometimes it was still weird, going in there. He remembered when Gerard’s grandparents had lived in this room. Frank wondered if Gerard ever thought about that. Knowing him, he probably did, and often.

Gerard sat down at the head of the bed, leaning back against the elaborate wood headboard. Frank didn’t join him on the bed.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.

“It was your dad. On the phone, I mean. That time.”

Frank knew exactly what time Gerard was talking about, and he clenched his fists. “What did he say?” he hissed.

Gerard extended a hand to Frank and beckoned him closer, but Frank didn’t move. “Frankie, come here, please,” Gerard said quietly.

Frank shook his head.

“Are you still with me?” Gerard asked, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t lie to me.”

He was nodding yes before he could stop himself. He was Gerard’s man through and through, and nothing would change that. He crawled up onto Gerard’s bed and sat cross-legged at his feet.

“Remember I told you there might be people in the Family who didn’t respect me like they should?” Frank nodded. He saw Gerard swallow and look away for a second. “Your dad’s one of them,” he said finally.

“That can’t—” Frank began, though he knew it very well could be true.

“Frank, he said he was. He told me. That’s what the phone call was about.”

“But he—”

“He’s not the only one who’s not here tonight,” Gerard continued, talking over Frank’s objections. “Five guys, important guys, didn’t show up, your father included.”

Frank frowned, suddenly angry. “Was this some kind of test?”

“No, no, it wasn’t meant to be,” Gerard said quickly. “It just turned out that way, I guess. I wish it hadn’t; believe me, I wish this could be a normal Christmas, but… Frank, things are bad, okay? Really fuckin’ bad, and it looks like it’s only going to get worse.” He paused to take a breath. “I need you with me, Frank.”

Frank swallowed. It was no longer Gerard against some unknown enemy; it was Gerard against his father. His own family.

Gerard stared at him. “I need you with me, Frank,” he said again. His eyes were earnest and hopeful and unsure.

Frank nodded, his decision made. “I’m yours. Always.”

***

Frank hid all of his Christmas presents under his bed until most of the guests had gone. Knowing this Family, someone would steal even the hideous Christmas tree sweater his aunt had given him. On second thought, maybe he would just leave that out in the lounge. Hopefully someone _would_ steal it.

The tangible gifts were mostly for the kids, though: Anthony and Nicholas were already dueling with their flashlight lightsabers, tearing around the house at full speed and full volume.

Frank remembered when he and Mark had been like that. Tony had always hung out with Gerard instead, and even as kids, the two of them had been relatively mature and aloof. Compared to Frank and Mark, at least. Frank grudgingly admitted that he’d probably been even more of a brat than Anthony. Mikey, as a teenager, had floated somewhere between the two pairs, more distant. He’d never wanted part of this life, really.

As people made their way out, there was a procession of hugs and kisses and handshakes and well-wishes. Frank tolerated it as long as he could, and then went to stand behind Gerard, smiling at the adults and scowling at the kids, because they would take it as a joke and he could get away with it.

Gerard visibly deflated when the door finally closed behind the last guest. Mikey feigned a swoon and collapsed to his knees, kissing the ground and murmuring about how glad he was of the quiet, almost-empty house. It made them all laugh only because of how true it was. Frank didn’t think he’d be welcoming back the depressing normality of fear and anger and paranoia, but he was.

“Presents!” Mark cried, then.

Mikey went first: Frank and Gerard had gone in together several weeks ago and bought him a new stereo, complete with a truly kick-ass speaker system (Mikey’s old stereo had been hit with a baseball bat a few years ago, and it hadn’t been playing very well ever since; Frank insisted it wasn’t his fault, because hey, Gerard _told_ him to do it).

Each of them gave Mark a different porn magazine, to which he replied, “Seriously, this is awesome. Seriously.”

Frank’s present for Gerard was in a simple box held together with a belt instead of ribbon. The belt was part of the gift, and it had been Mikey’s idea; Gerard grinned. Inside the box was what Frank liked to call a pimp-coat, long and tight-fitting with faux fur around the hood and sleeves. He’d found it two months ago while doing a job on the other side of town. Gerard stroked it lovingly.

“Oh my God, Frankie!”

“Jacket slut,” Mikey said fondly, under his breath. Frank threw a pillow at him.

“I want to give you yours later, okay?” Gerard said, giving Frank a somewhat apologetic look. “Come to my room tonight?”

“Oh sure, yeah,” Frank replied, beaming at Gerard’s reaction to his gift.

They had drinks, and then coffee, and then a few more drinks, and when Mikey passed out on the floor, Tony decided it was time for bed.

As they trudged up the stairs in single file, Frank’s mind wandered and he thought of what Gerard’s present might be. He’d asked Frank to come to his bedroom, and his present was secret, and so what if Frank didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of actually hooking up with Gerard, he could still dream.

At the top of the stairs, Gerard cocked his head toward his own door, and Frank followed his lead. Gerard seemed excited, even underneath the giddiness brought on by alcohol. He was wearing his new coat, and Frank had to admit it was a perfect jacket for Gerard. Just the right combination of badass and complete dork, and it was tight enough across the shoulders to look fucking sexy. Gerard clambered onto the bed with him and leaned over, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand.

He pulled out a thick paper envelope with a bright pink bow taped to the top, ‘FRANKIE’ written in all caps underneath.

The seal popped open easily under Frank’s eager fingers, and he turned the envelope upside down to shake out the contents. Inside was a fucking handmade comic book.

On the cover was Frank, it was obviously Frank, and Gerard, Mikey, Mark, and Tony were standing behind him, at either shoulder. They were all wearing superhero masks. In giant block lettering, it said, _The (Almost) True Adventures of Frank Iero, Badass Extraordinaire, as told by Gerard Way_.

“Oh my God,” Frank breathed. He flipped through the pages reverently. Each one was hand-drawn and colored. Gerard had _made_ him a comic book.

“Don’t tell Mikey, he’ll get jealous,” Gerard whispered, smiling.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe this, Gerard!” Frank turned the comic book—A fucking comic book! With him and Gerard as superheroes!—over in his hands. “This is so fucking amazing, Gee, I’m serious.”

Gerard blushed and ran a hand through his hair. “I hoped you’d appreciate it. I’ve been drawing it the past few months or so… keeping myself sane, y’know? Do you really like it?”

Frank grabbed Gerard by the back of the neck and kissed his cheek, a real, firm kiss that made a smacking sound when he pulled away. “I fucking _love_ it,” he corrected. “Holy shit!”

It took all of Frank’s will power not to stay up all night and read _The (Almost) True Adventures_ Gerard had drawn. He flipped through the first few pages, but he was too tipsy to really appreciate the subtleties of the art, Gerard’s cleverly ironic, black humor, and it was nearly four in the morning anyway. Frank put the book on his bedside table and stared at it for a few minutes before turning off the light.

With the darkness sheltering him, Frank entertained thoughts of jerking off, to take the edge off his excitement, but he fell asleep before he could even get his hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. He dreamed, though, of Gerard’s bashful, blushing smile and his crazy black mop of hair hanging over his face.

***


	6. part 5a

Life went back to normal surprisingly fast. Gerard didn’t want to waste time; it wasn’t even New Year’s before he distributed a hit-list to Frank and the guys. Frank wanted to protest, ask again to stay with Gerard, but this time, Gerard insisted.

“I need you for this, Frankie,” he said. “You know what information I’m looking for, and how to get it. Now that we know who we can’t trust, we need to work our way up to the top, okay? You can do that for me, Frank.”

Frank knew Gerard didn’t share his plans and worries with anyone else; Frank really was the only man for the job. He sighed and took the paper.

“Worm and Mark are going to be here,” Gerard added. “We’ll be fine.” Frank heard the silent _I’ll be okay without you for a few hours, don’t worry_ , and wondered if Gerard actually believed that. “Take Johnny with you. Be careful.”

***

Gerard knew exactly how to apply pressure to the right people: they killed two men and suddenly had a wealth of information. Gerard still sent Frank and the others out, though, to “send a message.”

After one such excursion, Frank was in the kitchen bandaging his hands—only a little scraped up, barely bleeding, he’d be fine in a few days—with Gerard hovering over his shoulder, alternately pacing around the kitchen and offering to clean Frank’s cuts and all the while shooting him worried looks.

“I’m fine,” Frank said, gritting his teeth as he pressed slightly too hard on one of the bruises. “Tell me what we’ve got.”

Gerard reluctantly turned back to his notes. “We still don’t know how far up it goes,” he muttered. “I don’t think these guys are at the top level, they’re not… they’re not smart enough.”

“So we’re still looking for a smart-ass motherfucker?” Frank asked.

“Yeah,” Gerard sighed. “Someone with experience. See, the thing is, I still don’t know if it’s someone from a rivaling Family, and these guys just changed loyalties or…”

“Or if it’s one of ours,” Frank finished quietly.

“I don’t want to think that,” Gerard said, “but I might be right to.”

Frank licked his lips. “You might be,” he finally replied. Gerard nodded his head in understanding.

***

Everyone living in the Way house gradually became more paranoid than ever before, simply from knowing that there could be traitors in their midst. The only ones living there full-time were Gerard, Mikey, Tony, Mark, and Frank. Vinnie stayed over fairly often, and Worm and Chris alternated watchdog duty, but hardly anyone else was allowed through the doors.

First, Gerard started avoiding the windows in the front rooms, then he started avoiding those rooms altogether. Then he wouldn’t go near the back or side doors, and he spent as little time in the gratuitously-windowed kitchen as possible. His office had two large windows, but they faced the backyard and Gerard kept the curtains firmly closed, the windows themselves locked and with an engaged alarm system.

Even though Gerard had pulled these kinds of reclusive, agoraphobic stunts before, Frank was worried. He couldn’t help but worry, now. Gerard barely slept, and he only ate when someone brought him food. Whenever he wasn’t in his office, he wouldn’t hold still, he couldn’t stop glancing at the exits.

As they got closer to figuring things out, Gerard withdrew more and more, even from Frank. He couldn’t deny that it hurt, but he dutifully trailed behind, alert for any threat.

***

Gerard was hiding. He no longer bothered with pretending to work; he was straight-up hiding, and the office was the only place he felt remotely safe anymore. Frank knew he was even sleeping there, most nights, if he was sleeping at all. He had to admit, however, that it made Frank breathe easier to know exactly where Gerard was at all times, and who had access to him. Frank was struggling to deal with constantly being on the verge of a panic attack, and he thought it must be worse for Gerard. They were at the point where they believed every shadow on the wall was a danger.

“I’m going out,” Frank said to Tony, already on his way to the door.

“Don’t get shot,” Tony called after him. Last week Pete had been shot at for no reason other than being connected to the Family and being loyal to Gerard. They still didn’t know who’d done it, and now Pete was paranoid as hell, and he was just a driver.

Frank nodded his understanding and took a detour to the side door. He’d planned on walking, to give himself time to clear his head, but that would just be making a target of himself. He checked the car for anything unusual before getting into the driver’s seat. Pete’s paranoia was rubbing off on him. But for good reason, Frank thought. He was closer to Gerard than Pete could ever be.

St. Jude’s Church was only a few blocks away; Frank pulled into the nearly empty parking lot and chose a space close to the building. Then he sat in the car staring blankly out the front window for several minutes. The last time he’d been here was Elena’s funeral, but that wasn’t the real reason for his hesitation. No, it was mostly because Frank had given up on religion when he was a teenager, more than ten years ago.

Frank got out of the car and started towards the door before he could talk himself out of it. He ignored the priest and the woman he was talking to in the lobby and continued into the sanctuary. Force of habit made him dip his fingers into the cool water and cross himself. Frank closed his eyes and tried not to curse God and the Church, and his parents for instilling their religion in him.

He walked slowly down the aisle, all the while staring up at the cross that hung behind the altar. He finally slid into the third pew from the front and sat down. A few minutes later, Frank was still trying to rationalize his visit to himself.

Behind him, the door opened and Father Russo came in. Frank turned to look over his shoulder. When Father Russo was about halfway down the aisle, he said, “Frank Iero.” Frank didn’t answer. The Father then asked, “What’s troubling you, my son?”

Frank shook his head and said, “Father, please, I’d rather be alone.”

Father Russo didn’t look surprised, not beyond his confusion at seeing Frank in the church in the first place. He nodded and replied, “Of course. I’ll be in my office if you change your mind.” And then Frank was alone again.

His forearms were resting on the pew in front of him. He had the Virgin Mary tattooed on his fucking arm. “Fuck it,” he whispered, staring down at his hands, already clasped together. He slid off the bench to his knees and ducked his head.

“Please,” he murmured aloud. “Please, God... keep him safe.” Frank looked up at the suspended cross. Statues and paintings and stained glass stared back at him, and Frank almost started crying. “That’s all I want, all I ask, just please, please keep him safe.”

On his way out, Frank stopped to light a candle, more for the idea of it than actually thinking it would help. Father Russo came out of his office, startling Frank, and said, “I’ll pray for you, Frank.”

Frank shook his head slightly. “Not me,” he said. “The Family. Pray for my Family.”

The Father gave him a hard look, but he nodded. “God be with you all, my son.”

Frank walked out without saying goodbye.

***

Not long after Frank returned, Gerard called him into his office, soft-voiced and utterly calm. When the door closed behind them, he said, “I just got a phone call from Tom.”

“What did he say?” Frank asked cautiously.

“Based on what you found out,” Gerard began slowly, “he was able to dig a little deeper. He gave me a name, Frankie. This could be our guy.”

Frank understood what Gerard wasn’t saying: it was a traitor, someone inside the Family. Frank nodded and held his breath, then gathered the courage to ask who.

“Salvatore Bertini,” Gerard replied. He didn’t break eye contact.

“Oh,” Frank breathed. One of Papa Rush’s most trusted caporegimi. “Sal?” Gerard nodded. Bertini had been sort of like an uncle to both of them, and yet, it wasn’t hard to think up reasons for his betrayal. Bertini was a man of tradition, and he made it no secret that he didn’t approve of Gerard’s rise to power, considering his only half-Italian heritage and his age. “Fuck,” Frank whispered. Now they had to deal with him.

“I’m coming with you on this,” Gerard said. “I need to be there.”

“Okay.” Gerard obviously wasn’t taking no for an answer, no matter how dangerous it was for him. “When d’you want to go?”

“Tomorrow morning. Get some rest tonight.”

As if Frank would be able to sleep.

***

Their usual chauffer, Pete, drove them, and Gerard instructed him to park around the back, so they wouldn’t be seen approaching. Pete dropped them off around the corner and continued around the block to do as Gerard asked. Gerard looked over at Frank.

“Ready?” he asked. Frank flexed his fingers and nodded, jittery with the knowledge of what he needed to do. Gerard touched Frank’s arm and nudged him towards the house. He said, “Let’s do this, Frank.”

“Let’s do this,” Frank parroted. He grinned, aware that he probably looked a little psychotic. He bounded up the steps and rang the doorbell, then knocked loudly.

Salvatore Bertini’s personal security answered the door with a blank, bored expression. Frank gave him a cheerful wave and punched him in the nose, shouldering past roughly as the guy clutched his bloody face. Gerard stepped around the man and led the way through the house. They found Bertini standing in the middle of his living room. He must’ve gotten up from his TV dinner when he’d heard his man cry out.

“Sal,” Gerard said, his voice devoid of emotion. “You’ve made a big mistake.”

“Oh yeah?” Bertini taunted after a few seconds. The time for pretending was over; they all knew what was going on. He had a thick New York accent, and he’d gotten fat since Frank had last seen him. “I think you’re the one that’s a bit fucked in the head, kid.”

Bertini lashed out and punched Gerard in the side of the head, moving surprisingly fast for a man his size. Gerard hit the wall, dazed and blinking rapidly, and Bertini hit him again, this time in the stomach. Gerard doubled over, and while he was gasping, Bertini knocked his head back against the wall. He crumpled to the floor. It was over in maybe five seconds, and Frank was too shocked to move.

The guy had some serious nerve.

“Oh, _fuck_ no,” Frank hissed, and that was all the warning he gave. He launched himself at Bertini and headbutted him, clinging onto Bertini’s wide shoulders for leverage. When Bertini stumbled to his knees, Frank went to town, his fists flying with the single-minded purpose of _kill_.

Bertini didn’t go down without a fight, though; he gave as good as he got, and it was only Frank’s stubbornness that kept him on his feet. Finally, after several minutes of tussling, Frank wrestled Bertini to the floor and had the presence of mind to pull his gun. He aimed it quickly between Bertini’s eyes.

Behind him, he could hear Gerard stirring. Frank held the gun steady as he panted, trying to catch his breath without breaking eye contact with Bertini. The seconds stretched on until Gerard said, “Fucking shoot him, Frankie.”

Frank didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

***

Frank wasn’t entirely sure how they’d gotten home. He thought he may have lost consciousness at one point in the car. He vaguely remembered Gerard telling Pete he was free to go home, and the next thing he was aware of was sitting at the kitchen counter, hunched over and leaning on his elbows, staring down at his hands. They were torn up, his knuckles especially, and covered in blood. They were also shaking, and hey, that was new. The attack on Gerard had really freaked him out, and now that the adrenaline was leaving him, the panic was settling in. Frank exhaled slowly to calm himself down. He felt blood drying on his face and neck and didn’t know how much of it was his own.

Gerard was in slightly better shape. He was leaning against the counter as well, directly across the center island from Frank, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the sluggish bleeding. He looked exhausted.

Johnny was there, too, beside Frank, casually cleaning one of his guns. He didn’t really seem to be paying attention to them.

Frank rubbed the heels of his shaking hands over his eyes and muttered, “Fuck.” He heard a metallic click and when he lowered his hands, he saw Johnny with his gun raised and leveled at Gerard. Frank tipped backward off his stool and took a hasty step back. “What the _fuck_? Johnny!”

“C’mon, Frankie,” Johnny said blithely. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Thought about _what_?” Frank shrieked.

“He’s barely older than you,” Johnny said. “He doesn’t have any idea how to run a Family like this. And you’re taking orders from him? Following him blindly? You’re like a fucking lovesick puppy, Frank, it’s pathetic.”

Frank looked over at Gerard. He was standing completely still, every line of his body tense. “Who would you rather take orders from?” Gerard asked stiffly.

“We’ve got a new Family set up, all ready to take over when you and your brother turn up in the lake. Bertini was never going to be the Don; we have someone else, someone who can handle the responsibility. He’s safe. All that needs to happen now is for you to die.”

“Bad idea, man. Seriously fucking bad idea,” Frank said.

“Oh yeah? His only bodyguard is standing right next to me and too bloody and torn apart to fight back,” Johnny snapped, not even turning to look at Frank. He was a professional; he kept his attention solely on Gerard, watching Frank in the periphery of his vision.

Frank heard the gun cock and he moved blindly, hurrying around the island to stand in front of Gerard, with the intention of yanking him to the ground, but then the gunshot rang out, unsilenced and echoing around the kitchen. Frank didn’t even register the bullet; he only felt Gerard’s left hand skimming his waist, taking his gun and firing three shots over Frank’s shoulder. His right hand slid around to Frank’s back and held him firmly. Gerard’s expression didn’t even change when he pulled the trigger. He just looked blank.

Frank knew before he even turned to see that all three bullets had gone into Johnny’s forehead. Gerard knew how to shoot to kill. He heard Johnny fall to the floor, and then Frank clutched at Gerard’s lapel, his knees suddenly weak.

“Fuck,” Gerard gasped, his forehead creasing in concern. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , Frankie, shit—”

Frank blacked out.

***

He was in a car. He knew that much. He could feel the vibrations though his back. His back really fucking hurt, too. Frank blinked several times until his vision came into focus.

Frank knew why Gerard didn’t like to drive. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how, or that he thought he was too good for it; it was just that he didn’t give a flying fuck about traffic laws. They ran three red lights and narrowly avoided being hit head-on by a semi in the space of about five minutes, and that was only what Frank noticed while his eyes were open.

Gerard was on the phone, babbling in a high voice. His freaked-out voice. He kept saying Frank’s name and glancing over at him. After a few minutes, Frank figured out where they were heading.

“Mob Doctor Bob,” he whispered, humming along with the radio. He passed out again.

***

Gerard tapped his cheek several times to get him to wake up. “Frankie? Frankie, c’mon, man, wake up. Gotta get you inside. Help me out, man. C’mon, Frankie. Can you walk? C’mon, Frankie, wake up.”

Frank threw his arm over Gerard’s shoulder and tried to carry his own weight from the car to the entrance to Bob’s office. He started giggling. They had to go through the fucking waiting room.

They didn’t wait, though, and it was empty anyway. Bob appeared by the check-in desk, his white lab coat fanning out behind him.

“Jesus, Frankie!” he cried, rushing forward to help Gerard carry him into the exam room.

“He stepped in front of a fucking gun,” Gerard said shrilly. “I tried to stop the bleeding, but—”

“C’mon, c’mon, let’s get him on the table.”

Bob (Gerard helped, but Frank could tell it was mostly Bob) lifted him onto the exam table and rolled him onto his side. Frank stared at the floor. They’d left a trail of bloody footprints. This may be worse than he thought.

Bob clenched his fists into Frank’s t-shirt and ripped it apart, peeling it carefully away from Frank’s skin. Frank shivered, hissing and spitting as the pain in his lower back seeped into his awareness. Gerard appeared in front of his face and grasped Frank’s hand, squeezing tightly.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Gerard whispered, staring up at Bob with wide eyes.

“I don’t know,” came Bob’s hurried reply. Frank groaned and clenched his jaw, his back teeth grinding together audibly.

Frank felt Bob’s hands poking and prodding, skimming over his wound, but he tried to block it out, focusing instead on Gerard’s face. His hazel eyes, wide and frightened, surrounded by bruises, and his lips, swollen and bloody from earlier in the day.

“Gee.”

“Shh, Frankie, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered.

“No, no. Gee. Need to tell you.”

“Not now, Frankie, tell me later. You’re gonna be fine,” Gerard continued frantically. His voice was getting higher and higher, like his head was about to explode or something.

“Jesus, Gerard, just let him,” Bob hissed, and suddenly his hands disappeared. “I’m gonna go get some drugs, I’ll be right back.”

“Gee…”

“What is it, Frankie? What?” Gerard held both of Frank’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs gently over Frank’s bruised and bloody knuckles. Frank closed his eyes. “Frank?”

“I love you,” Frank whispered. His eyes flew open. “I mean.” He bit his lip, grimacing as the pain overwhelmed him. “I’m in love with you.”

Gerard then did something completely unexpected: he ducked his head and closed his mouth over Frank’s. Frank kissed back on instinct, tasting blood on Gerard’s moist lips. God, if he was dying, what a way to go. Gerard moved one hand around to the back of Frank’s head, slowly deepening the kiss.

“Mmmph,” Frank said. At least, that’s what came out of his mouth. He wasn’t even sure what he meant to say.

Gerard pulled away, panting, and looked over Frank’s shoulder. Bob had come back.

“I’m gonna give you a shot, Frankie. For the pain,” Bob murmured. “Hold still.”

Frank moaned and squeezed Gerard’s fingers. Gerard looked down at their hands and squeezed back. He felt Bob reach for his arm and he moved willingly; a second later, a needle slid into his vein. Gerard flinched and turned his head away.

Frank felt a brief flash of pain, and then a rush of welcome blankness. He reached for Gerard’s hair and missed by a few inches. His hand dropped to his shoulder, instead. Frank pawed at him for a moment and murmured, “Love you. Love you, Gee.”

And then he passed out again.

***

When he came to, Frank was lying on his stomach on Bob’s exam table, and he could hear Gerard and Bob’s voices somewhere above him. He felt nauseous, and he groaned. It took him a minute or so to figure out how to open his eyes.

Frank’s head was turned, and Gerard was standing right in front of him, his hands held stiffly in loose fists at his sides. He couldn’t see Bob, but he felt things on his back—hands, maybe—and assumed Bob was doing something to him.

“He can’t go to a fucking hospital,” Gerard was saying.

“He’s going to get an infection! We have to get the bullet out.”

“No hospitals! They ask too many questions, especially about bullet wounds. Can’t you do it?”

“I’m not a fucking surgeon, Gerard!”

“How hard can it be?” Gerard scoffed. “He’s already cut open!”

“You know his history,” Bob replied wearily. “His immune system’s shot to shit. He needs a fucking clean room. I don’t have the equipment—”

“So what the fuck are you gonna do?” Gerard’s fists tightened and he slammed one down on the paper-covered cushion above Frank’s head. “Fucking _do_ something, Bryar!” he shouted.

Frank groaned. He wasn’t really in pain, he just felt like he was about to hurl. On Gerard’s shoes. They had blood on them already, he noticed. “Feel sick,” he mumbled.

Gerard moved his hand to Frank’s sweaty forehead and gently petted him. It was soothing, but it didn’t make the nausea go away. Frank groaned again and tried to curl up with his knees to his chest, but Bob’s hand on his hip stilled him.

“Don’t move too much, Frankie,” Gerard murmured.

“I know a guy who might do it,” Bob said. “It’ll take time, though. I’m not sure—”

“Tell him to fucking _make_ time,” Gerard shot back.

Ten minutes later, Frank was in the back of Bob’s car, wrapped in bandages and completely stoned on painkillers. He was lying across the seat with his head in Gerard’s lap; Bob was driving. They pulled into the hospital parking lot but bypassed the Emergency Room entrance, at Gerard’s insistence. Bob and Gerard carried Frank between them through the main entrance, and they were met by a man in scrubs, with long hair pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had a mask dangling from around his throat.

“Bullet wound, no questions asked?” the guy said, glancing at Frank.

Gerard glared at him. “Was that a question?”

“Ray Toro,” he said, touching Frank’s shoulder. “I’ll fix you right up. This way.”

Toro took them to an empty operating room and Bob manhandled Frank onto the table. The two doctors started poking and prodding him into the right position and Toro pressed a series of buttons on one of the machines, bringing it to life. Gerard was standing a few steps back, shifting his weight nervously, watching them. Frank stared at Gerard and wasn’t worried at all when his vision blurred. Either he was dying or it was the drugs; not much he could do about it.

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Gerard asked.

“We’ll take care of him,” Bob answered. He fixed an oxygen mask over Frank’s face and murmured, “Breathe, Frankie.”

“You need to step out, now,” Toro said. Gerard shook his head. “Just let us work, please.”

“Gerard, it’s okay, we’ll do whatever we need to—”

Frank couldn’t focus on Gerard’s face anymore; he was standing too far away. He was a blur of black clothes and hair.

“I’m not leaving him,” Gerard insisted, and Frank imagined him stamping his foot like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. He laughed. “Frankie,” Gerard said.

“Gerard, get _out_.” Bob again. He used that voice on Frank sometimes, whenever Frank did something particularly stupid and got himself hurt. Frank had never heard him use it on Gerard, though. Frank turned his head to look and saw Bob tying a mask over his face. The other doctor, Toro, ushered Gerard out of the room.

“It’ll be okay, Frankie,” Toro said when he returned, his eyes wide and bright as he peered down at Frank. “We’re gonna fix you up, you’ll be fine.”

“Just go to sleep, Frank,” Bob added.

They seemed pretty sure of themselves. Frank closed his eyes.

***

The next time he opened them, Toro was there, his mask hanging around his neck again and some of his hair trying to escape the tie that held it. He smiled widely.

“You’re up.”

“Yeah,” Frank gasped. His throat was dry. “Where’s Gerard?”

“He’s fine, I think he went back home,” Toro replied. A cup of water materialized in front of Frank’s face. Frank blinked. “Bob’s about to come get you, okay? He’ll take you there.”

“Bob… Oh. I was shot.”

“Yeah.” Frank noticed that Toro glanced quickly towards the door before continuing and then remembered that he wasn’t even supposed to be in the hospital. “I took out the bullet, but there was pretty extensive kidney damage… I had to remove your kidney, but if you give yourself time to heal, you should make a full recovery. You’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

“Oh.”

“Bob’s going to keep an eye on you, okay? You’re going to have to rest up for a while.”

“But I—”

“No, seriously, Frank,” Toro interrupted. “I don’t know what it is you do, but I can take a pretty good guess, and I can say for sure that you won’t recover if you try to go back to that too soon. Let Bob take care of you. He’ll let you know when things return to normal.”

There was a fierce gleam in Toro’s eyes and Frank nodded dumbly.

“It was a close call, Frankie. A few inches to the left and you probably wouldn’t have made it to my operating table, much less survived the procedure. Listen to Bob, do what he says.” He smiled suddenly. “He’ll be here in a minute to take you back to Gerard.”

“Okay,” Frank replied. “What time s’it?”

“Late,” Toro said with a grin. “You were out for a while, man. And don’t tell your friend, but when we knocked you out? We weren’t sure you were gonna wake up.”

“Oh.” Frank looked down at his lap. Once he saw the bandages wrapped around his stomach, he could feel the itch of the gauze and the pull of the tape on his skin. “Oh.”

Ray sat with him until Bob appeared, his hair sticking up in a multitude of directions. He looked weirdly like a blonde, bearded Gerard. Frank smiled.

“Frankie, how’re you doing?” he asked, hurrying to Frank’s bedside.

“Alive,” Frank said. “Apparently. Thanks to you. And Ray.”

“Only the best for you, Frankie,” Bob said, and Ray blushed, shaking his head so that more of his long, curly hair fell out of his ponytail.

“Ray said you’ll take me home.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just came from there. Got you some drugs and clean sheets on your bed and everything. Gerard’s going insane, by the way.”

“Hmm.”

“C’mon, Frankie,” Bob continued. He wrapped his arms around Frank and pulled him out of the bed. Frank noticed a wheelchair in the corner as Bob manhandled him towards it.

“Don’t want a fucking wheelchair,” Frank mumbled. Bob was bigger than him, sturdy, good to hold on to. Frank pressed his nose into Bob’s chest.

“Too bad,” Bob replied shortly. “You’re too stoned to stay upright on your own. And you have a bullet hole in your back and one less kidney than you came in with. You’re using a fucking wheelchair.”

Ray helped Frank get situated in the chair and walked with them to the entrance. He patted Frank’s shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Frank.”

“‘kay,” Frank said. “Thanks. For like, saving my life and stuff.”

Ray laughed. “Anytime.”

“C’mon, let’s get you up,” Bob said. Luckily, Bob’s car was parked right there at the entrance. Frank pretty much let Bob carry him, as humiliating as it was, because yeah, Bob was right, standing up wasn’t working so well at the moment.

Frank didn’t remember the car ride or getting upstairs, and he suspected Bob had carried him again. He didn’t mind too much. Frank was in his own bed and there were unfamiliar things cluttering up his nightstand, and Bob was sitting in his desk chair, which was pulled over to the bed.

“You’re awake,” he said unnecessarily.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Feeling okay?”

“Um…” Frank couldn’t really feel much of anything. It wasn’t an unpleasant blankness, though, so he nodded.

Bob did something with the stuff on the nightstand and held out a few pills. “Take these. It’ll make you go back to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep.”

“Too bad.”

“But—”

“Frank, shut up and take the fucking pills. Trust me,” Bob said, “you want to sleep. Deep down, sleep is exactly what you want, because you’re _so_ tired, your eyelids are already drooping and you can barely move your arms, you’re warm and on a comfortable bed with your own, familiar pillows—”

Fuck, he was getting sleepy. “Fine,” Frank snapped, and grabbed the pills. “Fuck you.”

***

Bob stayed with Frank for most of the next few days. He told Frank that Gerard came in while Frank was asleep, but Frank rarely saw him. Bob assured him that Gerard was fine, just working a lot.

By the end of the week, Frank was able to stay up for a few hours at a time, and Bob proclaimed him able to walk around. Slowly. Carefully. Without bending or twisting, and he wasn’t allowed to go up or down the stairs on his own.

Frank decided he wanted to be downstairs, because that’s where Gerard was most of the time. Bob set him up in the lounge with a blanket and a pillow and bottles of water, and Frank obediently sat there for most of the day, until Bob left.

But he needed to move. Bob _had_ said it was okay.

***

Gerard was pacing when Frank walked into the office and circled around behind the desk to glance at the notes Gerard had scribbled down. Gerard motioned for him to sit down, so he did. It was weird; this was Gerard’s desk, and before that, his grandfather’s desk, and Frank couldn’t remember if anyone else had ever sat here. He didn’t think so.

Sitting was a good idea, though; Frank’s legs felt weak and he hunched over the desk and tried to breathe through the pain. Gerard was on the phone, but he wasn’t saying much, and he looked over at Frank in concern.

“I’m fine,” Frank mumbled. He leaned back in the chair and pressed his hand to his side.

Gerard’s desk was littered with papers, which was nothing unusual, but Frank shifted a few of them aside and found a stack of photographs underneath. Mug shots. He pulled them out and started flipping through them. They were all people he knew, people in the Family. About halfway through the stack was his own picture. [Frank dropped the rest and cocked his head to the side, staring at his nineteen-year-old self](http://silentdescant.livejournal.com/279875.html).

He was grinning in the photo, and his hair had been dyed red and black. It wasn’t the same face Frank saw in the mirror now; he’d grown up since that time only a few short years ago. He’d been arrested for something stupid and childish, like shoplifting from a record store or something, Frank couldn’t even remember. He’d known, at the time, that there was no way he was going to jail. Not with his connections with the Family. He’d always been protected.

Lost in thought, Frank didn’t hear Gerard finish his conversation and hang up the phone, and the next thing he knew, Gerard was leaning over him and pulling him in for a slow, gentle kiss. Gerard’s hands came up to cup his jaw and Frank let himself relax, closing his eyes and melting into Gerard’s touch.

Then he came to his senses and jerked away, his eyes flying open.

“Um, what?” he asked stupidly. He felt dazed. Gerard looked surprised, and nervous. “Um,” Frank said again.

“Frankie—”

“You just… You just kissed me.” Frank groaned internally. Way to state the obvious.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Gerard murmured.

“You… Really?”

Gerard answered by kissing him again, sliding one hand up to the crown of Frank’s head, his fingers tangling in Frank’s long hair. Frank closed his eyes again and lifted his hands to Gerard’s neck, his fingertips slipping just beneath the stiff collar of his shirt.

“Jesus,” Frank breathed when they pulled apart. “Fuck, Gerard…”

Gerard leaned in and pressed his forehead to Frank’s, his eyes closed. He whispered, “God, Frankie.”

“I… I didn’t know,” Frank said finally, after a long moment during which he just stared at Gerard’s face. His fucking _eyelashes_. “You’ve had _girl_ friends.”

“Not in a long fucking time, Frank,” Gerard murmured, scoffing.

Frank’s throat felt tight; it was hard to breathe. He clenched his fingers around the hair at the nape of Gerard’s neck and tilted his head, ducking in for another kiss. Gerard’s tongue slipped between his lips, and that was what really convinced Frank that this was real.

He gasped into Gerard’s mouth, months’ worth of wanting finally coming to a head right in this moment and overwhelming him. “I love you,” he sighed, and then, “Shit.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Gerard said quickly, petting the side of Frank’s face. He leaned back a few inches to stare into Frank’s eyes. “Frank. I love you, too.”

Frank pushed against Gerard’s hands, tilting his head back so he had room to breathe. And fuck, was he hyperventilating or something? He couldn’t catch his breath. “You… You do?”

“Yeah,” Gerard replied softly. He smiled. “I love you, Frank. I kissed you, remember? In Bob’s office… Remember?”

“I thought that was… like… an only-while-I-was-dying kind of thing,” Frank admitted, blushing. “I didn’t think you meant it.”

“I do,” Gerard said, and surged forward to kiss Frank again.

This time, Frank didn’t interrupt. Gerard pressed him back into the chair, twisting his fingers in Frank’s hair again, and Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s waist to pull him closer. Frank lost track of time, because holy shit, they were _making out_ in Gerard’s office.

Eventually, though, Gerard broke away, leaning his forehead against Frank’s again. He seemed to like doing that, and Frank honestly didn’t mind. He stared at Gerard’s eyelids again. Gerard sighed.

“No one can know,” he whispered after a significant pause. “I’m sorry, Frankie. I wish…”

“You want—”

Gerard’s eyes opened. They were bright and his pupils were wide, and he was really fucking close. Frank’s eyes almost crossed, looking at him. “I’m not gonna let you go,” he said. “I’m not fucking stupid, Frank.”

Frank couldn’t think of a reply that didn’t make him sound like a teenage girl, so he kissed Gerard again. God, he loved doing that. It was so much better than he ever thought it would be, because Gerard’s lips were soft and ever-so-slightly demanding, and he made these fucking sounds, deep in the back of his throat, and his fucking _tongue_ , Jesus.

“Gee,” Frank said. “God, Gee.”

“Yeah.”

Gerard moved away, taking a step back so he could lean his hip against the desk. Frank watched him carefully: the soft smile on his swollen lips, the hazy look in his eyes. Frank took a deep breath and said, “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard admitted quietly.

Frank looked around the room, searching for something to distract him from standing up, grabbing Gerard, and kissing him again. The photos on the desk caught his eye, and he glanced around, wondering where his own had gone. He’d been holding it when Gerard had kissed him that first time.

Gerard followed his gaze and bent down to pick the picture up off the floor. He held it out to Frank with a somewhat sheepish expression.

“What’s all this for?” Frank asked. “Why do you have these?”

“They’re copied from police files,” Gerard explained. “Everything’s out of date, though. I think… I think it’s time we met with that Beckett guy.”

***

“Mr. Way,” said William, holding out his hand for Gerard to shake. “I get to meet the legend. Bill Beckett.”

“Bill?” Gerard cocked his head in polite inquiry.

“William, Bill, whichever you prefer. And you,” he said, turning to Frank, “must be Frank, right?”

“Yeah,” Frank confirmed warily. He took William’s proffered hand, but he didn’t smile.

“It’s good to meet you, Bill,” Gerard said. “Please, have a seat. Gabe’s told me a little bit about you.”

“Right, yeah. He’s a good friend of mine. I didn’t know he was…” William trailed off, glancing uncertainly over at Frank, who continued to glare at him. “Connected to you like he is.”

“Long-time friend of the family,” Gerard explained simply. “Tell me, Bill, how do your superiors feel about you and Gabe being friends?”

“What I do on my own time is my business,” William said stonily, though he managed to ease the sudden tension with an enigmatic grin. “I’m not married to my job. As long as it doesn’t affect my work, I do what I want with my personal life. I don’t care if my friends are considered ‘shady,’ they’re still my friends, and that means something to me.”

Gerard flicked his eyes over to Frank during William’s little tirade, and Frank rolled his eyes and smiled back. William could be really good for them.

After a few minutes of surprisingly candid conversation, Gerard said, “I need you to tell me about the Salvatore Bertini case. The media seems to be making a big deal out of it.”

“‘A leading man in a crumbling empire,’ they called him,” Frank quoted from the couch. He tossed a newspaper onto the side table. “We’re not crumbling.”

William looked back and forth between them and said, “No, that’s what they _want_. They fed the media that story because they’re confident that that’s how it’ll turn out.”

Gerard shot Frank a warning glance, his expression terse. “Why are they so confident?” Frank asked, because Gerard couldn’t. Even now, they couldn’t let on how little they really knew about the case. Not to someone like William.

William gave Frank a small, sympathetic smile and said, “Because they know you killed him. They’re still playing it off like they’re searching for suspects because they don’t want you to run, but they know it was you. There were fingerprints all over the place, your DNA—”

“Why haven’t they picked him up yet?” Gerard broke in.

“Gathering evidence,” William replied simply.

“I thought you said they have my DNA…” Frank said slowly.

“No, listen,” William said, and he didn’t sound unfriendly; on the contrary, he seemed like he genuinely wanted to help Frank understand. William was surprisingly earnest. Frank tilted his head to show he was paying attention. “They know who you are, your connections with Gerard and the Family. They know that if they picked you up on just that, you’d make bail or something and they’d lose you. So they’re gathering evidence on past crimes, unsolved murders and assaults that they suspect you of, and even some that they don’t.”

Gerard opened his mouth to raise an objection, but William continued speaking. “They want to take Frank out, take him out completely, even if it means planting evidence, ‘cause they think it’ll cripple the Family. Frank’s only one step away from you,” he said to Gerard, “and they know he’s a major player, even if they’re not sure of his role.”

“Shit,” Frank breathed. His criminal history was flashing before his eyes; all the mistakes he’d made, all the evidence he’d left behind that on its own was inconclusive, but put together could land him in a maximum security prison. And that wasn’t counting the crimes he knew he could easily be framed for committing. “I’m fucked,” he said quietly.

Gerard’s shoulders were stiff with tension and he remained absolutely still as he asked, “Can you get him off?”

“I…” William looked nervous for the first time since walking into the office. “I… I can’t, no, I can’t. I don’t have access to the physical evidence; I can’t fudge any test results… I’m just a lawyer. You need a cop for that,” he mumbled.

“Shit. Shit,” Frank said again. His palms were sweaty. His pulse had quickened and he couldn’t catch his breath.

“Frank,” Gerard said stiffly, glaring at him.

“The most I can do is stall them,” William continued sadly.

“Do it,” Gerard replied immediately. “Stall everything for as long as you can while we work something out.”

Frank bit his lip to keep quiet. William watched him with a sympathetic expression.

“Give me a minute alone with Frank, please,” Gerard said. “Go make yourself a sandwich or something.”

William’s face brightened. “Where’s the kitchen?”

The skinny fuck was _actually_ going to go make a sandwich.

“Uh… down the hall on the right,” Gerard said. As soon as William shut the door behind him, he muttered to Frank, “The kid looks like he hasn’t eaten in three years.”

“Yeah, he’s skinnier than _Mikey_ ,” Frank agreed, momentarily distracted. “Cute, though,” he added off-handedly. “Hard to believe he’s a lawyer. He looks so young.”

Gerard smirked. “He’s sharp as a tack. He’ll be good for us.”

Frank nodded and they fell silent. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” Frank asked, his brief good mood dropping like a stone in a pond.

“We’ll protect you,” Gerard replied comfortingly.

Frank laughed. “I know how you work, Gee. _I’m_ the fucking protection,” he cried, waving his hands around emphatically.

Gerard stood up and moved quickly around the desk. He took both of Frank’s hands in his and kissed his knuckles. “Shh. I’m going to get you out of this, Frank, even if it means hopping on a plane and leaving New Jersey for good.”

Frank gave him a small smile. “Where would you send me?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“We’d go to the Caribbean,” Gerard said, and Frank didn’t miss the deliberate ‘we’. “That’s where rich people go when they’re running from the law, right?”

“You’d probably get a tan in the Bahamas, Gee,” Frank pointed out.

“Shit, yeah, you’re right,” Gerard agreed, grimacing because he knew it was what Frank wanted to see. Frank was comforted by the gesture, at least. “We could go to Europe. Italy, maybe, though we’d have to brush up on our Italian. I pretty much only learned how to curse.”

Frank gave him the chuckle he was looking for, but he had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. The smile slipped off Gerard’s face and he kissed Frank chastely on the lips. “It’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll make a few calls, talk to Lindsey. I’ll fix it.”

***

Calling in personal favors, Frank learned, was a delicate business. Gerard called that District Attorney, Lindsey, and spent nearly an hour on the phone sweet-talking her. Then she agreed to meet with him at the house.

As before, she was wearing a skirt and boots, and her thick, black hair was pulled into low pigtails behind her ears. Her lipstick was bright red. Frank managed not to stare at her chest this time.

“Hi, Frank, how are you?” she asked politely while they shook hands.

“Been better,” he replied. “Gee’s office is this way.”

“How’s your back?” Lindsey asked when they were outside Gerard’s door. Frank paused.

“You know about that?”

She nodded once. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Frank looked her up and down before answering, “Thanks.” She seemed genuine. He opened the door for her and sat down on the couch. Gerard went around and kissed her on the cheek, and they sat down in the two chairs in front of the desk.

“What do you want, Gerard?” Lindsey asked, but she was smiling. Frank figured that was a good sign.

“I need Frank off the hook,” Gerard replied bluntly.

Lindsey took a breath and made an abortive gesture. “This is a big case, Gee—”

“He can’t take the blame for this.”

Frank closed his eyes. It was weird, hearing them talk about him, about the situation, like a business deal. Which, he supposed, it kind of was. Just not for Frank.

“Someone needs to,” Lindsey said apologetically. “There’s _evidence_ , Gerard.”

“There’s always evidence. Lindsey, please, just consider—”

“There’s only so much I can do.”

“Lyn, please.” Gerard lowered his voice. “This is all on me, okay? It’s not his fault; he can’t be blamed for what he’s done.”

Frank opened his eyes and saw Lindsey regarding Gerard sternly. “Are you saying you’ll give yourself up?” she asked quietly.

“No,” Frank broke in. “No, he won’t.”

“Frank—”

“Shut up, Gee. Please, Lindsey, do whatever you can, but don’t let him take responsibility.”

“Frank, don’t—”

“Gerard, _shut up_.” Frank sat up straight. “Lindsey, please help me, but don’t let him do this.”

She smiled. She glanced quickly back and forth between them, and then said to Frank, “I’ll cut you a deal. It’ll all go away.”

“What kind of deal?” Gerard asked.

Lindsey shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I’ll think of something plausible, don’t worry. I’ll make it go away.” She stood up, preparing to leave.

Frank was speechless. He fumbled for a moment and finally rose to his feet, then said, “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Lindsey replied with a grin. She hugged Frank and kissed his cheek. Frank forced himself not to immediately wipe off the lipstick smudge when she pulled away. “Take care of yourselves,” she said to both of them. “I’ll see myself out.”

Frank stared at her until she disappeared, closing the door behind her. Gerard came over and rubbed his thumb over Frank’s cheek, smudging the lipstick. He was smiling.

“What just happened?” Frank asked.

“She knows about us,” Gerard said.

“How?”

“I don’t know. Something we said, I guess. She did meet me in college… I think she knows me pretty well.”

“Oh,” Frank said. “So that’s it?”

Gerard nodded. “That’s it.”

“She’s amazing.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“I should send her a card.”

Gerard laughed and pulled Frank into a hug. Frank could feel the relief coming off him in waves. “Okay, sure. I’ll even sign it with you.”

***

Frank ran his fingers absently through Gerard’s hair, ruffling it. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. He felt Gerard nod.

“Bob will be here in about half an hour to check you out. I’ll send him to your room.”

Frank tried to look at his wound in the mirror when he undressed, but it still hurt a little to twist his torso that way. He reached back and rubbed his index finger over the scar tissue. He could move around and touch it without pain, for the most part, so he was hoping Bob would tell him it had healed.

In the shower, Frank washed his hair and body perfunctorily and then spent several minutes standing beneath the hot spray, distantly aware that he was wasting time and that Bob was probably waiting for him. He didn’t allow himself to think about what a mess they were still in, even with his own legal issues solved, and instead let happier memories wash over him.

Gerard loved him. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Frank’s far-fetched fantasies had come true, and now Gerard was his. Frank had always been Gerard’s, he realized with a half-smile, but now Gerard was his. He turned off the water and tied a towel around his hips.

Bob was in his bedroom when Frank entered, examining one of the paintings on the wall. “Hey,” he said warmly when he noticed Frank. “C’mere.”

Frank obediently went over to him and Bob reached out, then paused with his hands only inches away from Frank’s skin.

“You can touch,” Frank pointed out with a grin.

Bob smoothed his palms over Frank’s waist and hips and gently turned him around. He continued his careful exploration on Frank’s lower back but didn’t touch the small, round scar.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked quietly, and pressed his thumbs into Frank’s spine.

“No,” Frank answered, arching away slightly from the pressure. “Not more than usual, anyway.” Bob made a soft noise of acknowledgement. “Am I okay?” Frank asked, looking back over his shoulder at Bob. “All fixed up?”

“As much as can be expected after being shot in the back,” Bob replied.

Frank turned around. “Does that mean I can stop with the bed-rest and movement restrictions?” he asked hopefully.

Bob smirked. “I’m tempted to tell you no,” he said, “but I think you’d just disobey. You’re fine.”

Frank beamed and flung his arms around Bob’s neck. “Awesome! Thank you.”

“I’m not stupid, Frank, I know what you’re planning,” Bob muttered. “Take it easy, okay? I’m serious, no freaky Kama Sutra positions for a while, alright?”

“Jesus Christ, Bob—”

“Just don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bob continued, cutting him off. He was blushing, Frank noticed. “You could still hurt yourself, or he could hurt you without meaning to.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus, shut up,” Frank said, placating.

“And I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but I will anyway because you’re an obstinate little shit: no fighting for another few weeks. You need to be more careful, Frank, you aren’t invincible, and now it’s more likely you could damage your other kidney. Your body can only take so much abuse.”

“But you said I’m all better—”

“Frank,” Bob interrupted firmly. “Take it easy. I mean it. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re more vulnerable now. And if you come into my office with some kind of sex-related injury, I will laugh at your pain.”

Frank muttered, “Bastard,” and hugged Bob again. “Thanks, Bob. I do mean that.”

Bob squeezed him back, gently. “I know,” he murmured. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon, okay?” Frank nodded as Bob made his way to the door. “Have fun with Gerard. And for God’s sake, don’t tell me about it.”

Frank laughed. He actually got dressed after Bob left, in case Gerard wanted to get some work done today. Gerard was still in the same position at his desk when Frank found him, and he went around and wrapped his arms around Gerard’s shoulders from behind, kissing his ear.

“What did Bob say?” Gerard asked, leaning into Frank’s embrace. “All healed?”

“Yep. For the most part.” He licked Gerard’s ear again. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered.

“Oh, um. Oh,” Gerard stuttered. “Yeah, um. Okay. Yeah.”

“Unless you wanted to work for a while,” Frank continued.

Gerard looked down at the papers on his desk. “Oh, fuck it, now I won’t be able to concentrate anyway.”

Frank grinned and planted a smacking kiss to the corner of Gerard’s jaw. “That’s what I thought.”

Gerard turned in his chair and caught Frank’s lips in a quick kiss. “Let’s go up to your room.”

“Okay,” Frank agreed. He let go of Gerard’s shoulders and held out his hand to pull Gerard up. Gerard stood and kissed him again, slipping his tongue hesitantly between Frank’s lips. “Okay,” Frank gasped. “Upstairs now.”

They made it up to Frank’s bedroom without getting too distracted and Frank sat down on the bed. Gerard closed the door and joined him, still standing, but leaning over Frank and holding him carefully in his arms.

“Wait,” Gerard whispered suddenly. Frank pulled away, concerned, but Gerard was smiling. He disentangled himself from Frank and went to stand by the door. “The first time I jerked off thinking of you, I was standing right… here.” Gerard leaned his back against the closed door, his hip pressing against the doorknob. “I barely had the door closed before I was sticking my hand down my pants, Frank,” he said, with a little shake of his head.

He demonstrated that now, sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of his still-buttoned jeans. It was a tight fit. Grinning, Frank followed Gerard to the door and put a hand by either side of Gerard’s head, trapping him there.

“You were downstairs,” Gerard explained, “wrestling with Mark. You had your shirt off.”

Frank giggled happily. “I remember that,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the corner of Gerard’s mouth. “I gave him a bloody nose, and I was so fucking proud of myself. I looked for you, but you were gone.”

“I felt like a creep. You were like… sixteen, or something.”

Frank pressed closer. Gerard’s fingers were still in his jeans, but with the fly still done up, they were too tight for him to fit his whole hand inside. Frank dropped his hands to Gerard’s waist, ready to undo his pants, but not moving quite yet.

“What did you think of?” he asked. “What were you imagining?”

Gerard laughed and squirmed beneath Frank’s grip. “I don’t even remember. It feels like so long ago. I don’t think I had like, a particular fantasy I was playing out or anything.”

Frank leaned even closer and put his lips next to Gerard’s ear. “D’you have one now?”

Gerard replied with a short, stifled moan and Frank dropped carefully to his knees. His fingers made quick work of Gerard’s fly, and he gently pushed the layers of fabric—ha, Superman boxers! Gerard was such a geek. Frank bit back a giggle—down to Gerard’s thighs, breathing and mouthing at Gerard’s bare hipbone. He heard Gerard’s head hit the door as he leaned back and pushed his hips forward.

“This works,” he replied in a strangled voice. “Shit, Frankie.” He reached down and tangled a hand in Frank’s hair, petting him.

Frank hadn’t really seen another guy’s dick this up close and personal before, so he just breathed on Gerard for a few seconds, his mouth close but not quite touching. With every exhale, Gerard twitched a bit, his thighs tensing beneath Frank’s hands. Frank tilted his head and laid a closed-mouth kiss at the base of his cock, slowly working his way up to the head. Gerard’s fingers twisted in his hair as he tried not to make noise.

“Shhhhhhh,” Frank whispered, glancing up at the underside of Gerard’s chin. Gerard actually whimpered. “You’ve been wishing for this since I was sixteen?” he asked.

“Fuck,” Gerard groaned. “Yes.”

Frank rose up on his knees and took Gerard into his mouth, slowly, and his own dick jumped to full attention in his pants. That was new. Frank moaned around Gerard’s cock; he’d never given a blowjob before, never even really given it much thought, but how hard could it be? He didn’t want to ruin the moment by asking Gerard to tell him if he did anything wrong, though, and it wasn’t like he’d never received a blowjob. He’d just have to improvise.

Frank curled his tongue around the head, barely remembering to breathe through his nose, and made an embarrassing sort of whiny noise when Gerard thrust forward, pushing his cock farther into Frank’s mouth than he was ready for.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gerard muttered, drawing his hand down the side of Frank’s face.

“S’fine,” Frank replied. He wrapped his lips around Gerard’s dick again and moved slowly, fighting his gag reflex when he went too far. Gerard was tense as a guitar string beneath Frank’s hands and mouth, and Frank knew he was holding himself back in a big way.

Gerard tugged Frank’s hair a few moments later, muttering Frank’s name. “Up, Frankie, come up,” he finally said. He helped Frank to his feet and kissed him desperately, and his hand joined Frank’s on his cock. Gerard bit Frank’s lip when he came, and Frank gasped and leaned forward, pinning him back against the door.

“Oh, fuck, _Frank_ ,” Gerard sighed. “Sorry, just—Frankie, oh, _God_.”

“Was it—”

“It was good,” Gerard assured him with a lazy smile.

Frank grinned and whispered, “Why don’t we get on the bed?”

Gerard nodded and took his hand to lead the way. He twisted out from between Frank and the door and turned Frank around with him, walking backwards and tugging Frank along. They stopped twice to kiss before Gerard collided with the bed. Frank stumbled; Gerard caught him and laid them both down.

“C’mere,” Gerard said quietly. He scooted back to rest his head on the pillow. Frank crawled up with him. “I want you to fuck me, Frank.”

“Um.” Frank stared for a few seconds. Even when he’d said those same words to Gerard down in his office, he hadn’t really thought it through. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted in a low voice.

“It’s okay,” Gerard replied, smiling. “I know.” He pulled Frank in for a long, slow kiss, and when they broke apart he said, “Wait here. Get undressed.”

Without another word, Gerard rolled off the bed and buttoned up his pants, then disappeared out the door. Frank wriggled out of his shirt without sitting up and rested his hands on the fly of his jeans. He fiddled with the zipper for a moment, debating whether or not to take his pants off yet. They were already horribly constricting, though, and Frank rubbed himself through the fabric. That was how Gerard found him, when he came back into the room.

Gerard slipped inside without opening the door more than a crack and stripped off his shirt on the way to the bed. He tossed a tube of lubricant and an unopened box of condoms down beside Frank’s ankles, then unbuttoned his pants and pushed them off before joining Frank atop the blankets.

He smiled down at Frank and asked, “D’you want to do this?”

Frank reached for Gerard, flattening his palm on Gerard’s bare, pale skin. “Yeah,” he breathed.

Gerard undid Frank’s jeans and pulled them down a few inches. “Get your pants off, then.”

Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s shoulders and lifted his hips up so Gerard could push the jeans the rest of the way off. Once they were both naked, Gerard curled one hand around Frank’s dick and began to stroke him slowly.

“God, Frankie,” Gerard murmured, “I want you so much.”

“What do I do, what do you want?” Frank asked, heart pounding against his ribs. He wasn’t going to last long; Frank pushed Gerard’s hand away. Gerard seemed to take the hint, and he leaned forward for a kiss. He rolled them onto their sides, and then he continued to his back, and Frank knelt up beside him.

“Here,” Gerard said. He reached for the lube and handed it to Frank. “Fingers. Just… Slow, at first.”

“Okay,” Frank replied nervously. “Um, okay.” He wasn’t completely oblivious; he knew the basics, but… “Does it hurt?” he blurted out.

“No, it’s fine,” Gerard said quickly. “I mean, I guess it hurts a little at first, but Frank, I promise, it’ll be good. Just go slow.”

Gerard spread his legs and practically guided Frank’s hand into position, murmuring encouragements along the way. Frank felt that was a little backwards, like he should be the confident, reassuring one, but instead he was acting like a blushing virgin. Which he kind of was, he had to admit. Frank tried to push his nervousness away and concentrate on making this good for Gerard.

It wasn’t too scary, or even that weird. He kept his eyes on Gerard’s face and listened for the little hitches in his breath, and Gerard touched his arm, his shoulder, his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss, whispering a running commentary into Frank’s mouth. Finally, he whispered “Okay, okay, I’m ready, c’mon.”

Frank glanced down between their bodies and couldn’t help but think that a dick was a lot different from a few fingers. “Are you sure? I don’t want it to hurt. Or be, like… _bad_. Or, y’know—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Gerard replied quickly, his breath coming in quick, sharp bursts. “Please, Frankie, please, c’mon. It’s okay, I’ve done this before. Trust me.”

Frank trusted him. He thought, _Fuck it_ , and gave a mental shrug, and then he did as Gerard asked, quickly replacing his fingers with his dick and pushing in slowly. It was similar to fucking a girl, that tight, hot bliss, but at the same time, it was completely different. It wasn’t a girl, it was Gerard, who had his back arched and head tilted back, who was biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood and holding tight to Frank’s hand.

Frank had no stamina, and he was relatively sure that there was no way he could get Gerard to come again before he did. He wrapped his hand around Gerard’s dick and stroked sloppily. He mumbled something about not lasting much longer, and Gerard nodded and said, “It’s okay, c’mon, Frank, come for me, Frankie.”

Gerard tilted his hips and pushed back onto Frank’s cock, meeting him thrust for thrust, even though Frank’s rhythm was completely off. He threw his head back and moaned, “Oh god, Frank, _fuck_ ,” and Frank closed his eyes. He managed a few more jerky thrusts before he came with a low groan and collapsed to his elbows on top of Gerard.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered. He rearranged his limbs and tried to push himself away without hitting Gerard in the ribs, but Gerard just held him tightly and slid one hand between them to finish himself off. Gerard kissed him sloppily, more tongue and spit than necessary, and a moment later, Frank felt the wet splatter of Gerard’s come on their bellies.

Gerard let him roll off, and he grinned at Frank for a few seconds before closing his eyes. “You good?” he asked softly.

Frank thought he should probably be asking Gerard that, but Gerard was still smiling, so he figured it was probably okay. “Yeah, I’m good,” he replied. Gerard groped for Frank’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Next time,” Frank added, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Okay,” Gerard agreed. He rubbed his thumb slowly across Frank’s shoulder a few times as they both lay still, catching their breath.

“So, you’ve done that before?” Frank prompted after a minute, keeping his voice pitched low in case Gerard had actually dozed off. His eyes were closed, but Frank didn’t think his breathing was steady enough to signify sleep.

“I went to art school for two years,” Gerard murmured, giving Frank another, smaller smile without opening his eyes. “Only three times before, though. I was usually on the other end, if you know what I mean.”

“When? I mean, who? How? I mean—” Frank shut his mouth quickly. He wasn’t even sure which question he really wanted to ask.

Gerard, being sort of psychic, at least where Frank was concerned, answered the right one, one Frank hadn’t even asked. “Nobody—well, only a few people—knew who I was. I could be anyone I wanted. And I wanted to… experiment with that anonymity.” Gerard still hadn’t opened his eyes, but he’d turned his face towards Frank, and Frank could feel the gentle puffs of air hitting his throat as Gerard spoke.

“I was normal, for once,” Gerard continued. His eyes flicked open, immediately meeting Frank’s. “It was… It was really good.”

“Do you regret coming back? Not finishing school and like, going on with that other life?” Frank asked quietly. He was almost afraid of the answer, and he held his breath while he waited.

“No,” Gerard replied slowly. “No, I don’t regret it. Coming back was the right thing to do, and… I like my life here. It’s good.” He wrapped his arm tighter around Frank’s torso and squeezed gently. “Just, sometimes I think, ‘What if?’ And sometimes the things I come up with are really good too.” Gerard looked up at him, a soft, happy smile playing at his lips. “But I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

***


	7. part 5b

Gerard waited until the rest of the house was asleep before sneaking into Frank’s room every night for the next week. They didn’t always have sex, depending on how tired they were or how much Frank’s back ached from moving too much, but Frank was happy with what they did do: kissing, touching, sleeping together. He was getting better at giving Gerard blowjobs as well, learning through practice and Gerard’s example.

It became something of a routine to wait up while silence settled around him and listen closely for the sound of Gerard’s muffled footsteps and the muted squeak of Frank’s door as Gerard slipped inside. But after more than a week of that routine, Frank snuck out into the hall only a few minutes after everyone had gone to bed. The lights across the hall in Mikey, Mark, and Tony’s rooms were off, as were Gerard’s at the end of the hall. Frank tip-toed to Gerard’s door and put his ear against it. He couldn’t hear anything. He decided to risk Gerard freaking out and open the door.

He heard a sharp intake of breath and closed the door behind him. In the dim light from the windows, Frank could make out Gerard’s outline. He was standing halfway between the bed and the door, apparently on his way to Frank’s room.

“Gee—” Frank whispered.

“Frank,” Gerard breathed. As Frank’s eyes adjusted, he saw Gerard open his mouth to say more, but Frank went up to him and pressed his lips to Gerard’s, cutting him off. Gerard’s hands moved automatically to Frank’s waist; Frank lifted one hand to Gerard’s cheek, fingers curling around the corner of his jaw.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said clearly when they broke apart.

“Are you sure?” Gerard asked, his voice low and serious.

Frank paused and arched his body against Gerard’s, letting him feel Frank’s erection. “Yes,” he answered.

Gerard exhaled slowly, his breath hot on Frank’s face, and asked, “Here?”

“Yes. Please, Gee, come on.” Frank leaned in for a kiss, but Gerard pulled back and kept an inch of space between their lips.

“Get on the bed,” he whispered. Frank could almost taste the words as they were leaving Gerard’s mouth. When Frank started to move, Gerard lifted both arms and held him close. “How do you want…”

“I want to see you,” Frank answered quietly.

Gerard nodded and Frank pulled him towards the mattress and then up onto it. They sat there for a moment, Gerard sliding his hands up and down Frank’s sides, then finally slipping beneath his t-shirt to touch skin. Frank raised his arms and Gerard pulled the shirt over his head. Then, _finally_ , Gerard was close enough to kiss, and Frank did. He leaned forward until their lips met and held on tight while Gerard guided him down to the pillows, dragging Gerard with him so they were both lying down.

Gerard got rid of Frank’s boxers and his own shirt, and stretched over Frank to reach the lube in his nightstand drawer. Remembering how tight Gerard had been, Frank tensed up automatically. Gerard laid his palm on Frank’s stomach and rubbed it in small circles.

“It’s okay,” he said, his expression clear and encouraging. Frank believed him. “Here, lift up your knees more.”

Gerard guided him into a better position, one that left Frank feeling extremely exposed, but he figured that was alright. Kind of the whole point, even. He closed his eyes and breathed out through his mouth. As he’d done with Gerard, the slow, one- and two-fingered stretching, Gerard did to him. It was definitely… weird. Frank told himself he just wasn’t used to it. Yet.

The lube, at least, made everything more comfortable, though it was still kind of awkward. Frank found himself tensing up despite himself, and rocking his hips in a not-quite rhythm that didn’t match Gerard’s fingers.

Gerard stroked his free hand across Frank’s stomach, following the line of his hipbones down to his dick, which was half-hard and kind of tingly with hopeful anticipation. Gerard kissed Frank’s knee and curled his hand loosely around him, and Frank lifted his hips up off the bed. Gerard kissed his thigh the next time, and moved his hand to settle Frank down.

“Shh, shh,” he murmured. When Frank finally stilled, muscles as tight with restrained desire as ever, Gerard slid his hand up Frank’s inner thigh.

“Oh fuck, ow, ow, augh,” Frank gasped, flinging one arm out to the side and grabbing the sheets tightly.

Gerard moved his hands immediately and said, “Frankie?”

“Not you, it’s not you, oh fuck,” Frank replied breathlessly. “My back. Cramp, or something. _Fuck_.”

“Okay, okay,” Gerard soothed. “Can you turn over?”

Gerard smoothed his palms down Frank’s side and helped him turn over onto his stomach. Frank clutched at the pillow, shoulders tense.

“Around the scar?” Gerard asked gently. Frank nodded and groaned. “Shh, it’s okay. Just relax, okay?” He kept one hand on Frank’s back while he moved around, shifting so that he was straddling Frank’s thighs. Frank heard him uncap the tube of lubricant and squeeze some out. When Gerard touched him again, his hands were slick and cool. “It’ll warm up,” he whispered.

Gerard rubbed Frank’s shoulders firmly, then eased up pressure as he moved lower, but Frank couldn’t hold back the hiss of pain when Gerard’s thumbs pressed too hard on the cramp. Gerard moved his hands back up and concentrated on easing the tension in Frank’s shoulders.

“Relax, Frank,” he said, kissing the nape of Frank’s neck. “Don’t tense up, that’ll make it worse. Just relax.” He kept up the careful kneading motions until Frank was able to lie flat on the bed.

“This will probably hurt a little,” he murmured, and slowly moved his hands down Frank’s spine. Frank couldn’t contain a short, sharp grunt of pain. Gerard slid his fingers carefully over Frank’s skin, applying consistent pressure as he worked the tension out of Frank’s muscles. Once Frank had relaxed completely, Gerard’s touch turned more sensual, gentle, and Frank could feel every line on his smooth palms.

Gerard dipped down and mouthed at Frank’s shoulder, leaving a damp spot that gave Frank goose-bumps as the cooler air dried his skin. Gerard moved lower and dragged his teeth along Frank’s shoulder blade.

“Mm, Frankie,” he whispered, breath hot and lips wet, and Frank could feel it all so perfectly.

Frank sighed and reached one arm back to touch Gerard’s knee. As he slid his hand up to his thigh, he encountered the hem of Gerard’s boxers.

“Take these off,” he said softly, tugging at them. “Fuck me.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Gerard asked, and Frank felt a rush of cold air as Gerard sat up. Frank turned his head and looked back over his shoulder. He could only see about half of Gerard’s face from this position, and Gerard was watching him with clear concern.

“Yes. Yes, Gee, please, I want you to fuck me.”

Gerard leaned down over him again and kissed the corner of Frank’s mouth, his tongue darting out to wet Frank’s lips before he pulled back enough to speak. “Maybe it would be better if you were like this,” he said apologetically.

Frank nodded and rubbed his cheek on the soft pillowcase. “This is okay,” he conceded. As long as Gerard kept touching him, kissing him, as long as Gerard eventually fucked him, then he would be happy. “Kiss me again,” he said, and Gerard did.

On his back, Frank could feel the heat radiating from Gerard’s chest, and he arched up slightly so that they touched. He couldn’t hold the position for very long, and Gerard moved anyway, kissing and licking his way down Frank’s spine to the top of his ass.

“Still good?” he asked. His breath made Frank shiver.

“Yeah, good,” Frank answered, tilting his hips up and spreading his legs. He heard the now-familiar sound of Gerard squeezing lube out of the bottle and then Gerard’s hand, wet fingertips and smooth skin, slid up between his thighs to his ass.

“Pick up where we left off?”

Frank grabbed his own wrist beneath his pillow and nodded. This time, when Gerard pressed one finger into him, he wasn’t nervous. It didn’t really hurt, though it was still a little weird, and Gerard quickly added a second finger. Frank made a muffled noise at the stretch and Gerard ran his other hand gently up and down Frank’s thigh to soothe him.

It wasn’t long before Frank got used to the feeling; he rocked his hips back against Gerard’s hand, silently asking for more. Gerard’s free hand rested on Frank’s back, fingertips slowly meandering over his skin, and Frank finally figured out that Gerard must be tracing his tattoos.

Gerard stretched out over him and kissed the shell of his ear. “You ready?” he whispered. “You want it?” He twisted his fingers and Frank moaned aloud, turning his head in an effort to reach Gerard’s mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck,” he gasped. Frank closed his eyes.

Gerard moved his hands to Frank’s hips. “Lift up a little,” he said quietly, and helped Frank up so his knees were sort of underneath him. Frank stayed wherever Gerard positioned him, pliant and willing. He felt Gerard scrambling around behind him, and when Gerard leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, Frank shifted back and realized Gerard had taken off his boxers. Gerard’s dick pressed up against his ass.

“Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Frank whispered.

As Gerard pushed in, Frank turned his face into the pillow and groaned as quietly as he could manage. His hands clenched into fists; he sucked in a deep breath and concentrated hard on releasing that tension.

It took a few minutes for Frank to become accustomed to Gerard’s size, and even though he was going slow, _achingly_ slow, the feeling was still strange and uncomfortable.

Gerard rested one hand on Frank’s hip, his thumb digging in a little. Frank forced his right hand to release its grip on the sheets and reached behind him so he could touch Gerard as well. His fingers found Gerard’s thigh, and he felt muscles tensing in time with his thrusts.

“Gee, Gee,” Frank gasped. “God, Gerard.”

Frank rose to his elbows and knees, arching his back when Gerard licked and sucked a spot on his shoulder, his earlier soreness fading from his mind. The twinges of pain were forgotten on Gerard’s next thrust, a slightly different angle, and Frank couldn’t help himself: he cried out loudly and tossed his head back, hair in his eyes.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. Gerard reached up and clapped his free hand over Frank’s mouth.

“Shh,” he murmured, slowing his thrusts. He licked Frank’s earlobe, nibbled on it a little. On the next stroke Frank cried out again. This time the sound was muffled, but not by much.

“Oh God, oh my God, Gerard, Gee, oh God, oh fuck,” Frank babbled, nearly indecipherable through Gerard’s fingers. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt before, not even sex with a girl or fucking Gerard. He leaned his head back against Gerard’s shoulder.

“I knew you’d be a screamer,” Gerard whispered in a filthy voice. Frank licked Gerard’s hand and groaned.

Frank turned his head out of Gerard’s grasp, trying to look over his shoulder and meet Gerard’s half-lidded gaze. “Fucking kiss me, Jesus Christ, Gerard, _fuck_.”

Gerard raked his nails down to Frank’s chest from his throat. His tongue traced the tattoos on Frank’s neck, and Frank got weak at the knees. Gerard’s arms kept him from falling down onto the bed, and he managed to make the trip a little more gracefully. Gerard went down with him, resting more weight on him now that he apparently didn’t seem so fragile.

“God, Frankie, I’ve wanted to fuck you for so fucking long,” Gerard gasped. Frank could tell he was getting close.

“Should’ve done this years ago,” Frank replied. “Shit, Gee, God, please…” Frank wedged his hand under his body and rocked his hips into the mattress, trying to keep up a counterpoint rhythm to Gerard’s thrusts. “Shit, shit, Gee, gonna come, oh fuck.”

Gerard bit the junction of Frank’s neck and shoulder, and Frank shouted in surprise, thankfully muffled by pressing his face into the pillow. The next thing Frank was aware of was the wet spot beneath his dick and Gerard gasping out half-words and groans whenever he could spare the breath.

When Gerard finished—and that was a totally awesome and fucking dirty feeling, one that Frank hoped he would become quite familiar with—he rolled to the side, his arms around Frank, and gently kissed the spot he’d bitten. It was throbbing, a livid mark, and Frank could tell that it would probably bruise. He turned his head and grinned.

“We are _so_ doing that again,” he said, before Gerard could ask if he was okay. Frank could see the question on the tip of Gerard’s tongue. He smiled smugly and Gerard laughed.

“Go to sleep, you.”

***

The tension between them had been ratcheting up all day; both of them could feel it, and they exchanged knowing, wanting glances whenever people were looking the other direction. Frank had been licking his lips too much and they were getting chapped, but he couldn’t stop. Every time Gerard turned his intense stare over to him, Frank’s tongue darted out involuntarily, the same way his head tilted back just slightly as he exhaled. Frank had noticed Gerard’s knuckles going white with pressure from pressing his fingernails into his palm. He wanted those nails clawing at his back, at his ass; he could almost feel phantom scratches there when he thought about it. Frank ducked his head, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

As soon as Frank closed the door behind the last visitor of the day, he heard Gerard stand up and walk towards him.

“Over the fucking desk, Frankie,” Gerard hissed, already pulling apart his belt buckle and slacks. While Frank shimmied out of his own pants and wriggled out of his shirt without unbuttoning it, Gerard pushed aside papers and pens and an overflowing ashtray to make room. Then he put his hand firmly between Frank’s shoulder blades and pushed him down over the desk. Frank lifted his arms and gripped the opposite edge.

“Fuck, fuck, Gerard, c’mon,” he breathed. Gerard leaned over him; his shirt was only partially unbuttoned and felt rough against Frank’s back. The desk was cold beneath Frank’s cheek, but it heated up quickly with Frank’s own body temperature as Gerard licked a long stripe from Frank’s shoulder up to beneath his ear. “Oh god,” Frank moaned, “come on, Gee, please.”

Frank could feel Gerard’s pants against the backs of his legs and ignored them; this was going to be quick and dirty, that’s what they both needed right now. Gerard reached down and pressed two fingers between Frank’s thighs, far enough forward to rub at the space behind his balls.

“Lube,” Gerard whispered. “Drawer.” Frank forced one hand to let go of the edge of the desk and reach blindly for the drawer. Luckily, the lube was at the front and Frank was able to find it by touch. He twisted his arm behind his back and Gerard held him there by his wrist. His fingers flexed open. Gerard grabbed the lube before it fell.

Gerard made quick work of it, coating two fingers and pressing them steadily into Frank’s ass. Frank breathed through his teeth, though his spine arched and he pushed back towards Gerard’s hand.

“Fuck, Gerard, please, please fucking do it, God,” he babbled. His arm slid out of Gerard’s weak grasp and he clamped his fingers around the desk again, white-knuckled and probably digging grooves into the underside of the lip with his nails. Frank’s mouth hung open; he was drooling onto the desk. “Please, please, Gee, oh god, please,” he gasped. He closed his eyes.

Finally, Gerard replaced his fingers with his dick. Frank lifted his head from the desk, eyes still closed and mouth still open, and made a guttural sound deep in his throat. The stretch was almost too much, just barely on this side of painful, but Frank didn’t care. He arched his back and felt Gerard do the same, bringing their bodies into closer contact.

“Gonna come all over your fucking desk, Gerard,” Frank gritted out a few minutes later. Gerard thrust into him hard and they both moaned.

“I don’t even fucking care right now, Frankie,” he admitted, his voice a high-pitched whine.

Frank reached back and tugged at the hem of Gerard’s shirt. “Take it off, take it off,” he hissed. Chuckling breathlessly, Gerard shrugged out of it.

“Needed a wash anyway,” he said as Frank pushed back. He made room between his hips and the sharp edge of the desk and pinned the shirt there, then reached down to grasp his cock. Gerard’s hand joined his in the next second. “Want you to come, Frankie, want you to come first, come on,” Gerard said urgently.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, Gee, yes,” Frank chanted. Gerard rolled his hips, making Frank cry out sharply. He came in a quick burst over his and Gerard’s hands, making a mess of Gerard’s nice shirt, and Gerard followed a moment later with a low, needy groan.

When they’d pulled apart, both panting for breath, Gerard said, “God, I needed that.”

“Fuck yes,” Frank agreed. “Fuck. Yes.” He glanced over at Gerard, who looked a little dazed and weary. “Can we go to bed? I wanna blow you.”

Gerard closed his eyes and sighed blissfully, his hand warm and limp on Frank’s forearm. “Fuck, yeah, let’s go to bed.”

***

Gerard seemed to make a habit of staying in Frank’s room most nights, whether they had sex or not. Frank thought it might be a comfort thing; it had been Gerard’s room back when Gerard first had a boyhood crush on Frank, so it kind of made sense.

But Frank’s room didn’t have an en suite bathroom, or a king-sized bed, or a fantastic headboard that Frank liked to hold onto while they fucked. So he slipped into Gerard’s room sometimes, and Gerard always followed.

Frank woke up there one night, lying on his stomach with Gerard’s arm draped over his back and his legs a dead weight over Frank’s calves. He was instantly alert, asleep one moment and awake the next, and he blinked a few times, trying to figure out why.

“Gee? Gee? Gerard?” Mikey whispered from the doorway. Every muscle in Frank’s body tensed up. The blankets were pushed down far enough for Mikey to see that they were both shirtless, at least, and while Frank sometimes slept in just his boxers, Gerard _never_ did, when he was sleeping alone.

Frank heard Mikey take a few steps into the room and then stop. “Oh,” Mikey breathed, so quietly that Frank wasn’t sure he’d heard him at all. Mikey then retraced his steps, opened the door, and left.

Frank nudged Gerard’s shoulder. “Gerard. Gerard, wake up.” Gerard’s brow wrinkled but he didn’t wake. Frank shook him a little. “Gerard, wake _up_ ,” he hissed.

“Mmph, what’s wrong?”

“Mikey came in.”

“He does that sometimes,” Gerard mumbled without opening his eyes. He shifted closer and rubbed his nose against Frank’s arm. “Go t’sleep, Frankie.”

“ _Gerard_ ,” Frank said again, punctuating it with a poke to Gerard’s shoulder. “Mikey came in. _I’m_ here.”

Gerard opened his eyes. “What happened?” he asked softly.

“He came in, he scared me, I thought—I don’t know, but he came in, and he asked for you, and then he said, ‘Oh,’ and then he left, and that’s it—” Frank whispered in a frantic jumble of syllables.

Gerard glanced over to the door. “He just left?”

“Yeah.”

Gerard nodded slowly and tugged Frank up against him. “Go back to sleep, Frank, we’ll deal with it tomorrow. It’ll be okay.”

***

Frank couldn’t meet Mikey’s eyes the next morning over breakfast. He’d gotten up ungodly early and crept back to his own room, where he changed clothes and had a short nap, but it was still far earlier than he usually woke up. Frank decided to pretend that he’d been asleep when Mikey walked in on them, to see if Mikey would let it slide or… Frank hoped he wouldn’t bring it up.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table with it, staring down at the mug instead up at Mikey’s face.

“He’s been spending the night in your room, hasn’t he?” Mikey asked in a low voice. Frank licked his lips and opened his mouth, but he couldn’t think of how to answer. “I’ve gone in the past three nights and he’s been gone,” Mikey continued. “He was with you, wasn’t he?”

Frank nodded, still staring down at the dark, steaming coffee.

“For God’s sake, don’t do anything stupid, Frank,” Mikey muttered under his breath. “Do not ruin his life for some stupid fuck.”

“I’m not—” Frank began, finally looking up. “He—”

“As Gerard’s brother, I’m obligated to say _something_ ,” Mikey explained. “But Frankie, this is a dangerous situation. If someone finds out, and they don’t like it—”

“I would never hurt him, Mikey, _never_ , I swear to God,” Frank whispered urgently. “We’re being careful. I promise.”

“I found out,” Mikey said in a dull tone.

“You live with us! _And_ you’re his brother.”

Mikey gave him a blank look with a raised eyebrow that Frank translated as skepticism. “How long has this been going on?” he asked coolly.

Frank looked back down at his mug. “Since I was shot,” he mumbled. “He kissed me.”

Mikey’s expression softened briefly. “He kissed you?”

“I told him I loved him, and he kissed me,” Frank said. He felt his cheeks flushing and tried to hide behind his hair.

“Does he love you?” Mikey asked bluntly.

“He says so,” Frank replied. “I believe him.”

“Okay,” Mikey said. Frank heard him stand up and rinse out his mug in the sink. When he came around the table, he touched Frank’s shoulder. “Don’t fuck it up.”

Frank turned and looked up at Mikey’s face. He was almost smiling. Frank shook his head quickly and said, “I won’t.”

***

“Gee,” Frank said when Gerard appeared in the kitchen. It was thankfully empty but for them, and Frank leaned his hip against the counter and cornered Gerard by the coffeemaker. “Mikey talked to me this morning.”

Gerard nodded blearily, still in his before-coffee daze. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“He’s not going to tell anyone,” Frank said.

“I knew that.”

“He wants us to be careful.”

Gerard turned around, back to the coffeemaker, and rubbed his eyes. “We have to keep it secret, Frank.”

“I know,” Frank sighed. “I get it.”

“It’s not just us that would be affected, if word got out,” Gerard said calmly. “We’d lose so much.”

“I know.”

“Can we keep it secret?” Gerard asked. Frank broke eye contact. Gerard was really asking if Frank could keep it secret. If Frank could deal with that.

“Yeah, I can handle it,” Frank answered quietly.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Frankie.”

“I understand.” He really did. He hated that they had to hide, but Gerard and Mikey were right, it would ruin their lives if people found out. “I don’t ever want to hurt you,” he added. “My whole job is to keep you safe. I understand.”

Gerard gave him a sad sort of smile and rubbed his eyes again.

Frank poked Gerard on the shoulder. “Drink your coffee, Gee.”

***

Frank ended up in his own bed, alone, for more nights than he liked in the next week. No matter what Gerard said, Frank had a feeling he was a little nervous about Mikey knowing about their relationship. And on top of that, Mikey was spending a lot of time out of the house, and Gerard was worried for his safety.

Frank could almost see Gerard working himself into a state of paranoia, and it was for that reason that he sent Gerard to bed, to sleep, around eight o’clock one night. Gerard protested, saying he had work to finish and he wanted to wait up until Mikey came home, but Frank dragged him into his bedroom, kissed him once, and told him very firmly to get some rest.

Frank, however, fully intended on staying up until Mikey showed up.

It was nearly midnight when he heard the key scratching in the door. Frank muted the television, grabbed his gun from the table beside him, and rested his cigarette carefully in the ashtray.

“Frank, you up? It’s me,” Tony called from around the corner. Frank put down his gun. “I’m going to bed. Mikey has news for you.”

Mikey appeared in the living room, a determined smile on his face. “Is Gee asleep?”

“He should be,” Frank replied warily.

Mikey nodded towards the small stream of smoke rising from the ashtray. “Got another cigarette?”

Mikey didn’t usually smoke, so Frank raised an eyebrow at him when he passed over his pack. “What’s going on?” He waited patiently while Mikey lit the cigarette and took two slow drags, blowing out the smoke towards the TV.

“I proposed to Alicia.” Frank raised his other eyebrow. “She said yes.”

“Are you kidding me?” Frank asked, his jaw dropping in surprise. “She said yes?”

“She said yes.”

“Holy shit. Wow. Congratulations.” He laughed. “Yeah, congratulations. Dude, you gotta tell Gerard.”

“I wanted to tell you first,” Mikey said quietly.

Frank turned to look at him closely. There was something off about Mikey’s tone.

“We want to go to Las Vegas and get married there.”

“Um…”

“Soon, Frank. Really soon.”

“Mikey…” Frank began slowly. “What about Gerard? The Family? A real wedding?”

“We don’t want any of that,” Mikey explained. “You know how Alicia feels about the Family. We just want to get married and get it over with, not make a big deal out of it. It’ll be safer for us to just go away, right?”

 _Shit_ , Frank thought. He said, “You have to tell Gerard.”

“I’m going to. Tomorrow. So don’t tell him, okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank said softly. He stubbed out his cigarette and handed Mikey the TV remote. “Congratulations.” He was planning on going to his own room, sleeping alone, but he continued down the hall and slipped into Gerard’s bedroom. He crawled carefully beneath the blankets without getting undressed, and in his sleep, Gerard shifted closer into his arms.

***

“I don’t care who you marry, Mikey,” Gerard spat. “I think those traditions are stupid, you know that.”

“So why are you so fucking against this?”

“Mikey, just chill for a minute,” Frank began, holding out a hand as if that would defuse the argument.

“Do you even realize all the shit that’s going on right now? Could you possibly pick a worse time?”

“We’re going out of town,” Mikey said stiffly. “We’ll be safer away from here anyway. We don’t care, alright? We’re going to get married no matter what you say.”

Gerard made a sound like a cross between a sigh and a groan. “Mikey… You can’t just run away. You have a responsi—”

“No, Gerard, you have a responsibility to this Family. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. Alicia doesn’t want any part of it.”

“Mikey—” Frank tried again.

“Shut up,” Mikey shot at him, then turned and said the same to Gerard. “Shut up, I don’t have to listen to this shit. I’m leaving, and I’m going to marry my fucking fiancée, and that’s the fucking end of it. Goodbye.” He stormed past Frank and out of the office, letting the door slam behind him. Gerard pounded his fist down on the desk, growling in frustration.

“Gee,” Frank began cautiously. “Just maybe give him time to cool—”

“He doesn’t get it,” Gerard interrupted. “He thinks this is all about him, but it’s not. There’s something to be said for traditions and Family weddings. It’s expected—”

“I know,” Frank said. “ _I_ understand. But Mikey’s never been very… active in the Family.”

“Are you saying I should let him go?”

“I’m saying… There’s bigger things to deal with right now,” Frank said gently. “Maybe it would be better if he was out of town for a while, y’know?”

“I don’t want him to get hurt…” Gerard agreed. “But _weddings_ , Frank! It’s a big deal, and we’re a high-profile family. We have to keep up appearances. If he just disappears and comes back married, people will think it’s some kind of sordid, scandalous affair, and it’s not, I know it’s not.” Frank didn’t fully support Gerard’s ideas of traditional weddings, using Mikey like some kind of publicity stunt, but he understood why Gerard wanted—perhaps needed—to do so.

Gerard sighed and sat down on the couch, rubbing his forehead wearily. “Whatever,” he said. “No one has ever been able to control him.”

“Maybe that’s why,” Frank said, shrugging. “Maybe he’s just trying not to be controlled. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Whatever. You’re right. I should let him go. Shit, Frankie, this is so fucking—” Gerard cut himself off and sighed again. He pushed his hair back from his face and looked away from Frank.

“So fucking what?” Frank asked after a moment. He kept his tone casual, his voice quiet, sensing that Gerard was uncomfortable.

“Overwhelming,” Gerard whispered. “Frank—”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“You understand,” Gerard said.

“Yeah, I think I do.” They were silent for a moment, Frank standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “Do you want me to go talk to him?” he asked again, almost not wanting to interrupt the quiet, interrupt Gerard’s thoughts.

“Please stay.”

Frank sat down on the other side of the couch, sitting sideways with his feet up on the cushion, pressing against Gerard’s leg. Gerard’s hand drifted from his thigh to Frank’s foot and just rested there, warm and very still.

“Thanks.”

They stayed that way for a long time, and at some point Frank fell asleep. When he woke, he found himself lying on the couch with his feet stretched to the opposite end, his legs across Gerard’s lap. Gerard had propped a comic book against Frank’s knees and was flipping idly through it—Frank’s issue of _Hellboy_ , actually, which Gerard must’ve found on the table beside the couch.

“Hi,” Gerard said, noticing Frank waking up.

“I fell asleep,” Frank replied, faintly shocked. He couldn’t pinpoint when he’d done so: one minute, he and Gerard were sitting together, and the next, he was waking up in Gerard’s lap. “Shit, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Gerard said quickly. He waved the comic book at Frank. “I found this on the table, so that kept me occupied. It was… nice… just to sit quietly for a while, y’know? Not worry about people trying to kill me or whatever. Not worry about Mikey and Alicia. Just me and you, like we used to. Remember?”

Frank twisted his legs and pressed his ankle against Gerard’s thigh. “Yeah, of course.” Gerard put his hand on Frank’s leg, holding him there. It was comfortable, sitting with Gerard, _normal_ , and Frank smiled at Gerard. “It’s nice,” he whispered.

***

Mikey, of course, disappeared the very next day.

Tony crashed into the office, his hair on end from where he’d undoubtedly been tugging on it, and said, “Mikey’s gone.”

“ _What_?” Gerard shouted.

“I woke up, I’m sorry—He’s not here, I just woke up and he was gone—I didn’t think he’d—”

“Where did he _go_?” Gerard asked shrilly.

“Las Vegas,” Frank answered quietly. “He told me the other night that they wanted to get married in Vegas.”

“Goddammit, Mikey,” Gerard hissed, reaching for the phone.

“He’s not answering. I called him five times,” Tony said breathlessly. “Shit. I’m sorry, Gerard.”

Gerard waved off the apology and started dialing numbers the phone. “Go after him,” he said. “Go to the airport, Frank will call you and give you flight information. Catch up to Mikey and don’t let him out of your sight. Frank, find out where Mikey is _right now_ while I get Tony a flight. ”

Tony nodded and disappeared. Frank grabbed a phone and dialed information for airport numbers. He wasn’t even sure if Mikey’d left from Newark, JFK, or La Guardia. “Shit,” he muttered.

“I do not fucking need this right now, you fucking bastard,” Gerard was saying, probably leaving Mikey a message. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Surprisingly, it only took Frank half an hour to track down Mikey’s flight information. _Name-dropping and flattery will get you everywhere_ , he thought giddily. Mikey had left from JFK International at 8:20 in the morning, two one-way tickets in First Class on Delta Airlines direct to McCarran International in Las Vegas. They would be touching down at around 2pm Eastern Time, and, the woman on the phone happily informed Frank, they had reserved a car rental. Frank went ahead and took down the information she offered up about the car, and then had her book a last-minute seat on the very next flight out.

Tony was only an hour behind Mikey and Alicia, but Frank was sure he’d catch up to them. They didn’t know he was coming.

***

Tony called them right before his plane took off, and Frank relayed all the information he had about Mikey’s plans in Vegas. Tony promised to call again once he landed, and told Frank not to let Gerard worry too much. Nevada was far enough away from New Jersey that nobody should know who Mikey and Tony were.

“Yeah,” Frank agreed reluctantly, “but we’ve got contacts all over the country. Stands to reason that other people do too.”

“I’ll find ‘em,” Tony said. “They’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you when I get there.”

Frank wished him good luck and hung up. He looked over at Gerard, who was lying on his back on the couch Frank usually occupied.

“Tony says not to worry, that he’ll keep them safe.”

“Mikey’s a fucking idiot,” Gerard grumbled.

“Gee—”

“And it’s not just them I’m worried about.”

Frank slipped out of his chair and knelt on the floor by Gerard’s head. “What are you worried about, then?” he asked, head cocked to the side.

“Everything,” Gerard sighed. Frank reached for Gerard’s hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing gently to encourage Gerard to explain. “I still don’t know who’s trying to kill me, and we’re not getting any closer to finding that out, and until I do find out who it is, everyone has to be on high alert because we’re getting shot at if we so much as step outside the door.”

“Well—”

“It _could_ happen,” Gerard insisted. “We had a traitor in our own house, Frankie. He tried to kill me and he nearly _did_ kill you, and this was a guy we trusted.”

Frank sighed. “You don’t have any leads?”

“Not anything plausible. But…”

“But what?” Frank prompted.

Gerard turned his head and looked sadly up at Frank. “Even if we do find out who’s behind it all, there’s not much we can do about it. There’s nobody left to fight for us, Frank. If I went up against _anyone_ … I’d lose.”

Frank squeezed Gerard’s hand again. “Concentrate on tracking them down, first,” he said quietly. “Then we’ll worry about how to take them down. I’ll kill them all myself if I have to.”

He leaned in and kissed Gerard’s forehead. It was more pressing his mouth and nose against Gerard’s skin and breathing him in, but it was close to a kiss.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered.

***

By that evening, Tony had tracked Mikey and Alicia to a hotel on the strip.

“He gave up their plans right away,” Tony told Frank. “They’re getting married tomorrow—Alicia’s already found a place she likes—and then sightseeing for a week or so for a honeymoon. They even invited me to the wedding.”

“It’s ‘cause now they know Gerard can’t do anything about it,” Frank said. “I’ll let Gerard know what they’re up to, but I already know what he’s going to say: stick to them like glue, stay safe, and have fun in Vegas but don’t blow all your money in the casinos.”

Tony laughed. “Fantastic. I get a vacation.”

“Yeah, dude, I’m jealous,” Frank teased.

“Hey, Frank? Don’t tell Gee this, but it’s incredibly awkward being the third wheel on Mikey’s honeymoon. Just so you know.”

“At least Alicia likes you, right?” Frank said hopefully. “Better you than me.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Tony sighed. “Okay, well, I’ve still got to con my way into their hotel, so I’d better go. Good luck, okay? Don’t get killed or anything.”

“Same to you.”

“Frankie. I kind of think you and Gerard are in more danger than me and Mikey,” Tony pointed out. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be careful,” Frank replied. “Give Mikey and Alicia Gerard’s blessing.”

“Did he tell you to—”

“No. But he will, and I’d rather them hear it before they say the vows, y’know?”

“Thanks, Frank. I’ll tell them.”

***

“There’s a kid coming in today,” Gerard said off-handedly as he dialed a number on his phone. “I want you to wait outside for him, see what he’s like before he meets me.”

“What do you mean ‘kid’?” Frank asked. “Like, me-kid or twelve-year-old-kid?”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Frank, he didn’t tell me his age. I’m guessing he’s somewhere between twelve and twenty-three, though.”

When the time came, Mark poked his head into the office and announced that the kid had arrived. Frank and Gerard were playing blackjack; Gerard was winning. He always won at blackjack, because Frank never knew when to stop drawing cards. He stood up and tossed his cards—a queen, a two, a four, and an eight—at Gerard, who was grinning. Gerard pushed all of the cards into his desk drawer.

“I’ll give you a few minutes before I call you in,” Gerard told him as Frank neared the door. “He sounded nervous on the phone, don’t freak him out more.”

Frank found the kid in the living room, holding his coat in a bundle on his lap. Mark sat across from him with his laptop, ignoring him. The kid flinched when Frank sat down next to him.

“Hey, I’m Frank. It’ll be just a couple minutes. What’s your name?”

“Gino,” he replied quickly. Gino really was a kid, not more than sixteen or seventeen, with puffy pink cheeks and a mop of dusty blond hair atop his head.

“What are you here for?” Frank asked casually. Gino shifted his jacket in his lap, seeming to curl in on himself a little bit. Frank leaned away, taking pity on the poor kid. “Dude,” he said, “don’t be scared—”

“I’m not scared,” Gino broke in vehemently. Frank caught Mark hiding a smirk.

“I mean, don’t be nervous,” Frank continued, unfazed. “Whatever it is, he’ll probably help you out. Gerard Way likes to help people out.”

“Frank!” Gerard called from the office.

Giving Gino a hopefully encouraging smile, Frank pushed himself to his feet and nodded towards the hallway. Gino slowly stood up and followed him. Once inside Gerard’s office, Frank took up his usual position on the couch, gesturing for Gino to sit in the chair across from Gerard. Gerard stood up, leaned over his desk, and offered his hand. “Gino, we finally meet,” he said. “I’m Gerard Way, and I think you’ve met my associate, Frank Iero.” He shot Frank a glance; Frank shrugged his shoulders minutely. “What can I help you with, Gino?”

As Gerard sat down again, there was a flurry of movement in Gino’s lap. From inside the bundle of his coat, he withdrew a gun and raised it toward Gerard. Frank didn’t even think, he just reacted: he was out of his seat in a flash, already reaching for his own pistol. He twisted Gino’s arms behind his back, squeezing until Gino dropped the shiny revolver, then held him in a headlock with the muzzle of his gun pressed against Gino’s flushed cheek.

“What the fuck,” he hissed into Gino’s ear. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

Gerard had risen to his feet again, his hands white-knuckle-tight around the lip of the desk, and was staring venomously at Gino, who squirmed in Frank’s hold. “I do not appreciate having guns drawn on me, Gino,” he said stonily. “Especially not in my own home. Sit him down, Frank.”

Frank pushed the kid back into his chair and kept his hand firmly on his shoulder. He rested his gun against the crown of Gino’s head. Gerard walked slowly around the desk and came to tower over the boy. Frank’s eyes flicked back and forth between Gino’s shaking hands on the armrests and Gerard’s cold gaze.

“Who told you to do this, Gino?” Gerard asked calmly.

“Answer him, kid, who the fuck sent you?” Frank repeated when Gino remained silent.

Gerard ignored Frank and hunkered down so he was eye-level with the kid. “Who told you to kill me, Gino? Tell me.”

Gino still didn’t reply, and when Gerard said again to answer, Frank squeezed Gino’s shoulder as hard as he could. Gino cried out and Frank cocked his gun.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, they said you wouldn’t kill me, please, please, Mr. Way, sir, please don’t kill me, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Gino burst out tearfully.

Gerard picked up Gino’s heavy revolver and stood up, nodding to Frank.

“Gerard—” Frank began disbelievingly. Gerard glared at him. Frank flicked the safety back on, but he kept his hand on Gino’s shoulder and his gun at the ready. His heart was racing; he would not be caught unaware again, not like this.

Gerard leaned his ass against the desk and crossed his arms, a familiar pose to Frank, but it was different here. Gerard was using it for intimidation. “Who told you to kill me?” he asked.

“My, my uncle,” Gino stuttered. “They said you wouldn’t kill me, please—”

Frank tightened his grip again. Gerard narrowed his eyes and asked, “What’s your uncle’s name, Gino?”

“Bernardo Luciano,” Gino replied sadly. He looked down at his lap. “I don’t know anything, they just told me to—to—and they said you wouldn’t hurt me if things went wrong, I’m really sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“Shut up,” Frank spat. “Gee—”

“Let him go. Tell Mark to escort him out, and let him go.”

“Gerard—” Frank dug his nails into Gino’s pale skin. He was just a kid, sure, but they needed to teach somebody a motherfucking lesson.

“Do not argue with me,” Gerard growled. “Go.”

Frank and Mark both saw Gino out, with Mark posted at the door to keep watch. Frank returned to the office to find Gerard slouching in Gino’s vacated chair, turning the revolver over in his hands. He was starting at it; the polished metal caught the light and flashed brilliantly at Frank.

“This could’ve killed me today,” Gerard said softly. “At the hands of a fucking _kid_ , this could’ve killed me.”

Frank froze in the doorway. The adrenaline rush was fading and all he could feel was horror. Gerard was right. That fucking kid very nearly killed Gerard. “I’m sorry,” Frank began breathlessly. “I should’ve—I should’ve seen or frisked him or—”

Gerard half-turned, his brow wrinkled. “No, Frank, I didn’t mean—” He sighed. “Sit down, Frankie.” Frank did, slowly. “I wasn’t blaming you,” Gerard whispered earnestly. “I just—”

Frank couldn’t sit still. He slid out of his chair to his knees and lifted the gun from Gerard’s lap. He put his chin on Gerard’s knee and held tight to both of Gerard’s hands. “I don’t want that to ever happen again,” he whispered. “I was...” _scared_ “worried.”

Gerard petted Frank’s hair. They both took a few deep breaths.

“We should’ve sent a message—” Frank began.

“No,” Gerard interrupted, ignoring Frank’s pout. “You’re angry at him for what he tried to do, but he didn’t really know what he was doing. His uncle sent him because he knew we wouldn’t hurt kids, that’s all there is to it.” Frank opened his mouth to argue, but Gerard slid his hand down to grasp Frank’s jaw and he continued in a whisper, “I know you wanted to hurt him, Frankie, but he’s only a kid. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you had.”

Frank licked his lips and admitted defeat. A beat later, he said bitterly, “I want to fucking kill that uncle, though.”

Gerard ran his thumb thoughtfully over Frank’s lips. Frank tried to ignore the shiver it sent down his spine. “You probably will,” Gerard replied sadly.

***

The very next day, Gerard had a plan. It was a pretty simple plan, but it needed finesse to be carried out. Gerard wanted to hit all the main guys at once, take out the opposition in one big strike. Their only problem was finding resources to do it.

Tom, Gerard’s tall, gangly spy, made an appearance and he and Gerard secluded themselves in Gerard’s office for over an hour, talking and plotting. Frank paced outside the door.

“You think we can do this?” he asked Mark for the fifth time.

“Yeah, Frank,” Mark replied wearily. “Gerard’ll think of something.”

“He’s _already_ thought of something, though. Now we need… I don’t know, we need a lot. We need some fucking luck. A goddamn miracle.”

“Frank, sit down before you hurt yourself,” Mark said.

Frank sat down. Tom opened the door, and Frank popped right back up. “Gee?” he asked. Gerard waved him in.

“What did he say?”

“This Luciano guy is the one,” Gerard answered. “We’re sure of it, this time. He’s not connected to our Family, but apparently he was a major player in one of the Families in New York. Somehow he gathered a following with us and decided he could run things better than I can. And apparently several of our guys agreed.”

“You’re doing pretty well, I think,” Frank said.

“We’re going to kill them, Frank,” Gerard said firmly. “We’re going to find people to help us, and we’re going to kill them, all at once so they don’t have time to react. This’ll work.”

“Yeah, okay, but where do we find these people to help us?” He paced in front of Gerard’s desk until Gerard took him by the elbow and sat him down in one of the armchairs. “We barely have anybody left.”

“You, me, and Chris are going after Luciano. We’ve got Mark, Worm, Pete—”

“Pete’s a fucking chauffer!”

“He’s gonna be backup,” Gerard replied simply.

“Oh God, Gee, we’re grasping at straws.”

“Your friend Cortez,” Gerard said. “Brian Schechter and his friends. Gabe has a lot of people in his pocket. This will work, Frank.”

Frank nodded. “I don’t want you there.”

“I’m going to kill this guy, Frank.”

“I don’t want you there,” Frank said again.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Gerard said calmly.

“Gee, please, think of what happened last time—”

“Last time, you got shot.”

“No, that was back at home,” Frank said quickly. “No, last time you got beat up, Gerard.”

“Frank—”

“Please, Gee, I don’t want you there. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m going, and that’s final,” Gerard said stiffly. “Now, go fill Mark in while I start calling people.”

“Gerard…”

Gerard glared at him. “Don’t argue with me on this, Frank.”

Frank nodded meekly. “Do you have a list?” he asked.

Gerard pulled a piece of paper off his desk and handed it to Frank. “Read it, Frankie,” he said, his expression inscrutable. Frank took the paper and went to the door before glancing down.

The third name on the list: _Frank Iero (Sr.)_

Frank’s head shot up. “Gee—”

“Call him, Frank,” Gerard murmured.

Frank let the list fall to the floor and ran up to his bedroom.

***

“Frank.”

“Dad, listen to me.” Frank took a breath. “Get out of town. Don’t come back, don’t mess with us anymore—”

“I will do whatever I fucking _want_ , kid—”

“No, Dad, shut the fuck up. We know you’re involved. Get the fuck out of town before you get _killed_ ,” Frank said angrily.

“You can’t do anything about this, Frankie, stop pretending like you know what the hell’s going on. I want you to hang up this phone and come straight to—”

“No!” Frank shouted. “You don’t fucking understand, okay? I’m trying to save your miserable fucking life. Do you know what I’ve been doing lately? Do you, Dad?”

“Frank—”

“I’ve been out murdering your fucking _friends_ ,” he hissed, seething with anger. “You underestimate Gerard. You have no fucking clue how pissed off and fucking _ruthless_ he is. He _will_ kill you.”

“He would nev—”

“If he asked, I would do it.”

Franco remained silent, apparently shocked into speechlessness. About fucking time. Maybe now he would listen.

“I don’t want to do it,” Frank murmured. “But I would, because you raised me to be loyal, and I am. Just not to you.”

“Frankie—”

“Get out of New Jersey and don’t come back. Don’t fuck with Gerard and you might get out of here alive.”

“You’ll never see me again,” Franco warned.

“I’ll never see you again if you’re fucking dead,” Frank spat in reply.

“You wouldn’t kill me, Frankie.”

Frank paused to think, to _really_ think about whether he would. Whether he could put a gun to his father’s head and pull the trigger. He thought back to what Franco and the others had planned, back to taking a bullet meant for Gerard. Everyone telling him over and over and fucking _over_ again to be loyal to the Family, never betray the Family, not ever.

“You would’ve had me killed,” Frank whispered. He’d been shot at and punched and cut open more times than he could count, and his own father had been pulling the strings. “You would have killed me,” he said again. “Your own son.” There were tears threatening to spill over his cheeks and he blinked rapidly to hold them back.

“Frankie, son, listen—”

“I would do it,” Frank interrupted. He pictured Gerard’s desperation and fear. The exhausting paranoia that held them both captive. He would do it for Gerard. “I would kill you if he asked.”

“Frank, wait—”

“Get the fuck out of Jersey. I won’t warn you again.”

Frank hung up the phone, fully aware that it might be the last time he ever spoke to his father. He was on the verge of tears and he couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed about them. He would do whatever Gerard ordered him to do, no matter how much he didn’t want to. No matter how justified his feelings may be. Frank couldn’t swallow around the lump in his throat and he began to sob. He was a mess, his whole face wet, his lips pulled into a painful grimace, his lungs unable to hold in the air he tried to breathe.

“Oh god,” he gasped.

Gerard was there when he looked up, taking Frank’s face in his hands calmly and tilting his head up. His palms were warm and dry against Frank’s cheeks and Frank pressed forward into Gerard’s hands, welcoming the comfort. He didn’t care what it might cost him. Gerard brushed his thumbs firmly over both of Frank’s cheeks, wiping away the tears until they fell again. Gerard merely repeated the motion.

He bent down and kissed Frank’s forehead, lips as firm and comforting as his hands. He moved away and looked Frank in the eye. “I would never do that to you,” he said slowly.

“I would do it,” Frank cried.

“I know you would,” Gerard replied calmly. “But I wouldn’t order it. I wouldn’t ask you to. I won’t ask.”

“I just love you so much—”

“I know, Frankie, I know,” Gerard murmured. He leaned in close, his voice and his breath soothing and desperately needed. He kissed Frank gently on the lips. “It’ll be okay now, Frankie, I promise.”

Frank leaned away and Gerard took the hint and dropped his hands, staring at Frank with an expression that was neither encouraging nor sympathetic, but somehow still comforting. Frank furiously wiped his face with his fists and sniffled loudly twice, and then he had himself partially under control. There were still tears leaking out of his eyes, but he scrubbed them off his face as soon as they appeared.

“I’m okay, I’m okay now,” he said, and his voice sounded rough even to his own ears, but it was the best he could do. “I’m okay.”

Gerard smiled. “Okay,” he whispered. Frank nodded at him. Gerard dragged his fingers through the hair by Frank’s ear, where it curled over and stuck to his damp cheek, and then left. Once the door closed, Frank sighed shakily and curled up on the bed. He was no longer crying, but he felt sick and wrung-out, and he still couldn’t quite control his breathing.

It would be okay. He trusted Gerard.

***

Gerard was worried the plan would get out somehow, so he set it into action two days later. People in the Family and friends Frank had known in high school assembled in the dining room, the biggest room in the house, and waited for instructions. Gerard stood at the head of the table.

Frank waited behind him. He felt like a zombie. He hadn’t slept much, and he hadn’t spoken to his father. Today was the day; either Brian Schechter would find his dad and kill him, or Brian would go into an empty house and they would never see his dad again. Frank didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it.

Gerard handed out assignments, paired people up, and let them loose. When the room had cleared, he looked at Chris, then at Frank, and said, “Let’s get this done.”

***

They didn’t care about subtlety this time. Chris parked the car on the front lawn and led the way to the house. Luciano wasn’t expecting them; Luciano didn’t even know them. Chris broke down the door and went inside, followed by Gerard and Frank, walking side by side.

Frank had a flashback of Bertini’s house, of Bertini knocking Gerard out, and he grabbed Gerard’s hand.

“It’s okay,” Gerard whispered. Frank swallowed and let go.

Chris continued to lead them through the house as if he knew the layout. He pounded on doors until they opened for him, and they finally found Luciano and two other guys in the study at the back of the house. Frank and Chris drew their guns and blocked the door, Gerard behind them.

“Who the fuck are you?” Luciano asked sharply.

“We’re the guys who’re gonna kill you,” Frank replied easily. Chris shot one of the other men in the head and he fell sideways out of his chair. Luciano and the other man looked suitably terrified. Frank stepped aside to let Gerard through.

“Do you know who I am?” Gerard asked, his voice calm but his back stiff with tension.

Luciano leaned back in his chair, relaxing slightly. Frank wasn’t sure why; maybe he knew he was about to die and didn’t want to end his life in fear. “Gerard Way,” Luciano answered.

Gerard nodded, smiling, and said, “You son of a bitch.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Frank saw the second man reach for something in his pocket, maybe a gun. Frank whirled around and grabbed the guy by his hair, yanked his head back, and pushed his gun up beneath the guy’s chin.

“What are you doing?” Frank asked innocently. The man’s eyes were wide and frightened and he was trembling in Frank’s grasp. Frank pushed him away and pressed the muzzle of his gun to the back of the man’s head, and he pulled the trigger without waiting for the order.

Luciano was alone, now. He regarded Frank with a detached sort of calm, the same kind of calm that took Gerard over whenever someone aimed a gun at him. Frank licked his lips and twirled the gun in his hand casually.

“Chris, check the house,” Gerard commanded without breaking eye contact with Luciano. Frank nodded at Chris; they had this under control. This guy wasn’t Bertini; he wasn’t used to doing things himself. Frank could deal with him. Chris disappeared, leaving the door open.

“Show him what we do to our enemies, Frankie,” Gerard said.

Frank twirled the gun around his finger again, showing off and reveling in the way Luciano’s eyes widened, and fired two shots into Luciano’s stomach. Not enough to kill him immediately—he had a feeling Gerard wanted to have a little chat before Luciano died—but certainly enough to hurt like fuck. Luciano screamed and hunched over, hands pressing hard into the wounds.

“Get on your knees, you bastard,” Gerard hissed. He kicked at Luciano’s leg. “Frank?”

Frank went around behind Luciano’s chair and pushed him out, so he stumbled to the floor, on his knees and staring up at Gerard. Frank circled back around to stand next to Gerard, gun still at the ready.

Gerard slid his hand down Frank’s arm from his elbow to his hand and gently took the gun from his loose grasp. With his other hand, Gerard turned Frank’s face towards him and kissed the corner of his mouth. Frank was surprised, but he didn’t let it show, not to this guy.

Gerard stepped forward, still smiling, and aimed the gun at Luciano’s forehead.

“Nobody fucks with me or my Family.”

He pulled the trigger, dropped the gun in the puddle of blood, and reached for Frank’s hand to lead him from the room. Chris was waiting in the hallway, and he looked them up and down for any visible injuries.

“We’re done here,” Gerard said. He squeezed Frank’s hand and let go, and strode purposefully towards the front door, Frank and Chris trailing after him.

***

The evening was full of people checking in by phone and dropping by to debrief. Everything, surprisingly, had gone according to plan, and Frank was relieved to hear that Brian had found Franco’s house empty, drawers and cabinets opened as if he’d left in a hurry.

By the end of the night, Frank was exhausted. It was a different sort of tiredness than he was used to; instead of the aching muscles and throbbing bruises, Frank just felt dead to the world. It was partially from lack of sleep, he knew, but as he crawled into bed beside Gerard, he thought that it was probably also due to being on high alert for so long with no rest.

Frank flopped down on his stomach. Gerard, on his back, turned to face him and smiled. “It’s over,” he said, and as if he was reading Frank’s mind, “We can finally rest. Relax. Sleep at night.”

“I miss sleep,” Frank replied, grinning. He reached over to Gerard and took his hand. “It’s finally over.”

“It’s finally over,” Gerard parroted. “I can finally do what I was meant to do.”

“And what is that?”

“Lead this Family.” Gerard’s smile softened as he added, “With you at my side.”

Frank squeezed Gerard’s hand and buried his face in his pillow. “You’re such a sap,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Gerard agreed. He rolled onto his side and stretched his arm over Frank’s back in a half-hug. Two fingers played with the hem of Frank’s t-shirt. “But you love it.”

“Yeah, well… Yeah,” Frank replied giddily. He peeked out at Gerard.

Gerard raised both eyebrows. “It’s finally over,” he said again. “It’s really over, Frankie.”

He grinned and Frank just had to scoot over and press his lips to Gerard’s, to feel his happiness, to celebrate. Gerard slipped his hand under Frank’s shirt, his palm smooth against Frank’s side. “Fucking finally,” Frank sighed.

***


	8. part 6

With the danger gone, Gerard felt it was time to let everything out in the open. In the right company, that was. He met individually with the Dons from the other Families in New York and gave them a summary of what had been going on. For the most part, they were sympathetic; at worst, they didn’t seem to care. Gerard wasn’t met with any hostility, and for that, Frank was grateful.

Gerard told the other men that he was planning to change the way his Family was run, and that the last thing he wanted was a war. He diplomatically smoothed over the damaged relationships and made deals left and right to ensure that he had enough freedom to spread his wings. Frank was impressed; Gerard even charmed the men into thinking it was their own idea.

It took a while for the paranoia, the feeling of constantly being on edge, to wear off for both of them. Frank still wasn’t sleeping well, and Gerard had been an insomniac since he was a teenager, but instead of worrying until they were literally sick with it, Frank and Gerard found much more fun ways to spend their sleepless nights.

It finally sank in for Frank when he saw on the news that the deaths of several high-profile mobsters were not being investigated too deeply. The reporter said that the police suspected a mob hit, and that the offending parties had been killed in the battle. Frank could see Lindsey Ballato and William Beckett’s fingerprints all over that media bullshit, and that night, he passed out for twelve hours solid and woke up feeling alive again.

***

“Frank!” Tony giggled down the line. Frank held the phone a few inches away from his ear, overwhelmed by the volume of the background noise.

“Where the hell are you?” he asked loudly.

“At a fuckin’ club, man. It’s great. I’m _so_ … I’m so drunk, Frankie.”

Frank laughed. “Hey, yeah, okay, Tony? Why are you calling, dude, what’s up? Where’s Mr. and Mrs. Way?”

“They’re in their room, Frank,” Tony replied forlornly. “I’m all alone. Well, not alone. I’m in Vegas, Frank. Fuckin’ _Vegas_. But they’re having sex in their fuckin’ honeymoon suite and I’m down here in the bar.”

“Awesome,” Frank said cheerfully. “Give the happy couple my best. And don’t get so drunk you fuck some girl and pass out and can’t remember the next morning.”

“Pfft,” Tony scoffed. “Anyway! I was just, y’know, wonderin’… What’s up with Gee, man? You don’t sound dead or anything, so I guess things went okay.”

Frank shook his head in amusement. It was funny to see Tony so out of the loop; usually, he was the one in the very center of the loop. It was also funny to see Tony drunk off his face, which Frank had only experienced a few times in his life. Tony rarely went past tipsy. “Yeah,” he finally answered. “We’re good up here, Tony.”

“Oh! Oh yeah. Mikey said… He said that he’s ready to come back to Jersey.”

Frank sat up straight. “He said what?”

“We’re comin’ back. In a couple days, I think,” Tony slurred. “He said he’d book a flight.”

“Seriously?” Frank grinned. “I need to tell Gerard. Call me back when you know the flight and stuff, okay? Don’t drink too much. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, Frankie-Frank. See you. Soon. Sooooon.”

“ _Goodbye_ , Tony.”

Frank clicked off the phone and practically skipped to Gerard’s office. Gerard took one look at his face and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

“Mikey’s coming home,” Frank sang cheerfully. “I just talked to Tony, who is a hilarious drunk, I might add, and he said Mikey’s booking a flight home.”

Gerard sighed and tilted back in his chair, smiling up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Frankie.”

“You were worried about him, weren’t you?” Frank asked knowingly. He leaned his hip against Gerard’s desk.

“Yeah, I guess so. It’ll be good to have them back.”

“I guess Alicia’s going to be living here,” Frank pointed out. “They are married now.”

“Oh shit, yeah. We should have some kind of welcome-home-slash-congratulations party for them.” He raised his head and looked up at Frank. “I can’t believe I wasn’t there for my little brother’s wedding.”

“He’s all grown up, now.”

Gerard grinned. “Where does that leave us?”

“I’m going to be a kid forever, you know that,” Frank replied, waving his hand in front of him. “And you were a grown-up since as long as I can remember.”

“You’re not a kid, Frankie,” Gerard murmured. “You’ve done so much.”

“And you’re too young to be a grown-up,” Frank countered, equally quiet. “We’re just us.”

***

Their party ended up being more of a family dinner, with Mark and Tony’s parents and Vinnie and a few of Frank and Gerard’s cousins. Everyone congratulated the happy couple, and Mikey looked happier than Frank ever remembered. He glanced over at Gerard and found him grinning at his younger brother. The happiness was contagious.

Alicia was more gracious than Frank ever remembered, too. She didn’t look down her nose at anyone, and she didn’t send any disapproving glances Gerard’s way, and nobody mentioned the Family business.

After the guests had gone, Frank and the others gathered in the lounge while Mikey and Alicia described the wedding ceremony for them. Tony escaped to his room, claiming to be desperate for his own space, his own bed, and finally some peace and quiet. Mark, however, listened eagerly to Mikey’s story about finding Tony in an elevator with some showgirl, drunk off his ass.

Frank sat on the couch with Gerard, close enough that their thighs and arms were touching. Frank leaned into him a little and nodded towards Mikey. He had his arm around Alicia’s shoulders and was playing with a lock of her long, dark hair, and Alicia’s hands were clasped and resting on Mikey’s thigh. Gerard nudged Frank in the ribs and grinned.

***

Now that things were running smoothly with the business, Gerard spent less time secluded in his office, working. Frank took the opportunity to celebrate a little, clinging onto Gerard’s shoulders when he wandered into the kitchen looking for food, sitting in his lap while Gerard tried to read a book in his armchair, hip-checking Gerard into walls when they passed each other in the hallway.

Frank was high on life and too giddy to hold back his affections. Mikey didn’t seem to care whenever he found them in a more-than-friendly position, and Alicia didn’t look at all surprised. Tony ignored it completely and apparently liked to pretend that Frank just wasn’t all over Gerard, even when he obviously was.

One night, Frank walked in on Gerard and Mark watching a movie. By the look of the two extra wine glasses on the coffee table, Frank suspected that Mikey and Alicia had recently gone to bed. He flopped down in their vacated seats on the couch and put his head in Gerard’s lap.

“You make a good pillow,” he said quietly, smiling up at Gerard before turning his head to watch the movie. Gerard didn’t quite know what to do with his hands, and after a moment, he settled one on his own thigh and one on Frank’s shoulder.

By the end of the movie, the hand on Gerard’s thigh had migrated to Frank’s hair and Gerard was petting him absently as the credits rolled. He stopped suddenly, realizing what he was doing, and said he had to go to bed. He eased out from under Frank and disappeared, leaving Frank sighing up at the ceiling.

“How long has that been going on?” Mark asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“You and Gee.”

Frank froze. He couldn’t look over at Mark, not now. “What do you mean?” he asked casually.

Mark scoffed. “I don’t care, Frank. You’ve been following Gerard around like a lovesick puppy since you were a kid. I’m honestly not that surprised.”

Mark stood up and came over to him. “Okay, cool,” Frank said quietly, because Mark seemed to expect a reply.

“You gonna go after him?” Frank broke into a smile and nodded. “Fuckin’ gay-boy,” Mark muttered, and reached down to help Frank to his feet.

***

The secret was out. Inside the household, at least. Gerard still didn’t like to touch or kiss in front of anyone, and he blushed fiercely whenever Mikey called attention to their relationship, but Frank didn’t mind. He was glad to have _somewhere_ he didn’t have to hide.

The teasing wasn’t even too bad. It wasn’t like Frank expected: when Frank came down to the kitchen for coffee, bleary-eyed and hair sticking up every direction, Alicia smirked and asked if he’d had fun the night before. Frank had indeed had fun, and he couldn’t stop the smile flashing across his face, and Alicia just shook her head and ruffled his hair as she passed by. Comments like that were pretty much the extent of the teasing.

It made Frank more confident, if anything. Perhaps too confident. Frank no longer felt weird about sitting pressed up against Gerard on a couch or a bench; he didn’t feel that cold rush of worry whenever he touched Gerard’s hand or shoulder; he didn’t mind reaching over and fixing Gerard’s tie or shirt collar when it didn’t sit right. It made Frank careless.

***

Frank stood in Gerard’s doorway, leaning against it and smoking silently. The office was already cloudy with stale cigarette smoke; Gerard sometimes went through more cigarettes than he realized when he was concentrating. Frank, lost in thought, tried to blow smoke rings and failed. Gerard’s voice startled him from his reverie.

“What’s up?” he asked, flicking his cigarette into an overflowing ashtray. He took another drag and then stubbed it out, waving away the smoke with his free hand. Frank watched him in silence. “Frankie, you’ve been standing there for like, twenty minutes. What’s up?”

“Just thinking,” Frank managed finally. He licked his lips and continued staring into the room without really seeing Gerard or the desk. Gerard stared right back at him until Frank noticed and looked away.

“About what?” Gerard asked, in the voice that made Frank want to do anything he said. Frank wasn’t the only one, either. When Gerard used that voice on people, he got what he wanted. Frank was just ridiculously weak, though, and almost always gave in immediately.

Also, he knew Gerard was using that voice on him deliberately.

“You know you’re a manipulative fuck, right?” he began pointedly. He approached the desk slowly, with the intent of stubbing out his cigarette in Gerard’s ashtray. Gerard shrugged. Frank sighed. “Why can’t we just… run away? Leave Mikey in charge and go buy a beach house in the Caribbean?” Frank knew he was being somewhat petulant, but it was frustrating, not being allowed to do anything that might reveal their relationship.

“I don’t like the beach,” Gerard teased. “Not even the ones in Jersey.” The smile slid off his face when Frank didn’t return it. After a moment during which they both just stared calmly at each other, Gerard said with a slight shake of his head, “Mikey can’t do what I do.”

“He could. You could teach—”

“He can’t, Frankie. He doesn’t care enough.” Gerard’s calm reasoning gave Frank the impression that he’d thought about this possibility at considerable length.

“He loves this Family as much as you do!” Frank cried desperately. He was frustrated with the Family, with Mikey, and mostly with Gerard for always being right.

“No, he doesn’t,” Gerard replied sadly. “He doesn’t want any part of this, you know that. He resents the Family.”

Frank stared down at Gerard in disbelief. “And you’re saying you don’t? You fucking _should_ , Gee. I sure as hell do.”

Gerard’s expression hardened. “Don’t say that,” he said stiffly.

“God,” Frank spat, turning away. “Show some fucking emotion, Gee. Let it out.”

“What do you want me to do,” Gerard shouted, rising to his feet, “cry about it? I love you, Frank. I love my job, but I’m willing to risk it all for you, okay?”

“Not enough,” Frank muttered before he could stop himself. Gerard’s face crumpled in dismay and he seemed to deflate before Frank’s eyes.

“What do you _want_ , Frank?” Gerard asked desperately.

“I just want you,” Frank yelled back. “I want a _real_ relationship, that’s all. Is that so much to fucking ask?”

Gerard was quiet for a moment. Without taking a breath, he whispered, “Yes.” He and Frank stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Gerard looked away and sat back down. In a stronger voice, he said, “We’ve had this discussion before, Frank. You know the reasons we can’t. It’s not an option.”

Fuming, Frank stalked back to the doorway. Before leaving, he turned around and hissed, “I should just fucking quit.”

Gerard looked up and met his eyes. “You won’t,” he said confidently.

Damn Gerard for always being right. Frank twisted his lips into his best menacing look, with his teeth showing. “Fuck you,” he muttered, turning on his heel and storming out. He wanted to punch someone, or some _thing_ , but he knew from experience that hitting a wall would just fuck up his hand. He kicked his bedroom door with all the strength he could muster, and it bounced off the inner wall with a satisfyingly sharp crack.

Frank shut himself in his room for the rest of the evening, listening to a metal station on the radio with his headphones on and staring off into space, trying not to think too hard about anything. He saw the door fly open, but he couldn’t hear the bang it must’ve made when it connected with the wall. Gerard stomped in and Frank yanked his headphones off his ears.

“You want to beat someone up?” Gerard asked angrily. He flung a few sheets of paper onto the bed. “Here. Have fun.” He disappeared again, as quickly as he’d come.

Frank was just reaching for the papers when Gerard appeared in the doorway again, this time with a pained look on his face.

“I’m fucking trying, okay? I don’t know what to do, but I’m trying. Okay? Frank? I’m sorry.”

***

“What did you do?” Bob asked wearily.

Frank held out his hands: his knuckles were split open and caked with blood, but that was it.

Bob sat down and started cleaning the cuts. “Y’know, one day you’re going to do irreparable damage to your hands,” he said casually. Like that would make Frank stop.

“Yeah, well, then I’ll have to work on my high-kicks.”

“What did you do, Frankie?” Bob asked again. “I thought things were okay now?”

“Gee and I got in a fight and I needed to beat somebody up, so he sent me out,” Frank explained quietly. “I didn’t kill him, but I maybe went a little overboard. On the bright side, he won’t try to double-cross Gerard again.”

“Go back to the part where you and Gerard are fighting,” Bob said. “What happened?”

“Nothing physical, shut up!”

“I didn’t think you hit him, that’s not what I meant. What are you fighting about?”

Frank sighed and leaned back on the cushioned table. Bob still held his hands, dabbing them with gauze and chemicals that made the wounds sting. “You’re not going to let me go until I talk about it, are you?”

Bob shrugged.

“I touched him, or kissed him, or something, I don’t remember,” Frank began, not looking down at Bob’s blonde head. “He got mad, ‘cause someone might’ve noticed, and… I just want to be normal, y’know? I want to be able to kiss him whenever I want.”

“You’re never going to be normal, Frank,” Bob said sadly. “And neither will he. It’s not his fault.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. Learn to deal.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I can stop fixing you up, y’know.”

“No! I love you, Bob Bryar, please marry me?”

“Shut up.” Bob started wrapping Frank’s hands in gauze.

“I yelled at him,” Frank admitted miserably. “I told him I should quit.”

“You didn’t mean it,” Bob replied comfortingly. “You should apologize, though.”

“Yeah.”

“He loves you, Frank.”

“I know. Christ. I fucking know that.” Frank rubbed his eyes with the back of the hand Bob wasn’t currently bandaging.

“Then go home, say you’re sorry, and tell him you love him,” Bob said simply. He tapped Frank’s knee. “You’re all done. No more tearing your hands open, okay? I’m tired of fixing your fucking hands.”

Frank sighed and tilted forward to kiss the top of Bob’s head. “Thanks, Bob.”

Bob helped him off the table. “Now, get out of here.”

***

Frank spent several hours driving around aimlessly, avoiding Gerard by just not going home. It was past midnight when he finally got back. The house was dark and silent, and Frank went directly to Gerard’s bedroom. He opened and closed the door as quietly as he could, and whispered, “Gerard?”

“Frankie—”

Gerard sat up and reached for the light, but Frank held out his hand to stop him. “No, wait, let me talk.”

“Come here, Frank.”

“No, wait.” Frank cleared his throat and shifted his weight nervously. In all that time alone, he hadn’t come up with something to say. He began with the obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Frank, come here, I was worried about you,” Gerard whispered.

Frank obediently crawled up onto the bed. Gerard took his hands and stroked his thumbs over the bandages.

“I lost my temper, I’m sorry,” Frank continued. “I was just frustrated, I don’t need anything more from you, Gee, I’m sorry, I love you. I love you and I don’t care that I can’t show it. I mean, I know that I can’t, I understand that. I really do. I’m sorry. I love you. I’ll never leave you, I don’t know why I said that, I’m sorry.”

“Frankie, Frankie, shh,” Gerard murmured. “It’s okay, it’s fine. I know.”

“I love you.”

“I wish I could give you what you want, Frank. I want that, too. I would love to kiss you in plain sight and not worry about anything, but I can’t. I have to worry about things like that. It’s still so dangerous. I’m sorry.”

“No, I get it,” Frank said. “I know you do. I should worry about it too.”

“I love you, Frankie,” Gerard said. “I hate that I can’t—”

“It’s okay, I’ll deal.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Gerard said quietly. “What happened to your hands?”

“I beat that guy up a little harder than necessary. Went to see Bob, he fixed me up.”

“You’re okay, now?” Gerard asked. Frank nodded and shifted into Gerard’s lap. Gerard wrapped him tightly in his arms. “Don’t hurt yourself, Frankie.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank breathed. Gerard was warm and soft around him. He didn’t want to ruin that, not for anything. “I’m sorry, Gee.”

“It’s okay,” Gerard whispered, and kissed Frank’s hair. “We’ll figure it out.”

***

They were all surprised when Mikey announced that Alicia was pregnant. He did it at dinner, right before they all started eating. Frank looked around, jaw hanging open in surprise, and found Gerard, Tony, Mark, and Vinnie in similar states of shock. Alicia was grinning. Mikey was smirking. Smug bastard.

Gerard turned to look at Alicia; he cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. She nodded. Gerard stood up and went around the table to hug her tightly, then moved on to his brother. “Jesus, Mikey, _congratulations_ ,” he whispered.

Frank looked down at his plate, beaming. The others offered their congratulations and then Frank stood up and hugged Mikey tight. “About fucking time, right?” he whispered in Mikey’s ear.

“Shut up,” Mikey said, but he was smiling. “One of us had to, and it’s not like Gerard can get you pregnant,” he whispered back. Frank smacked his arm and they both laughed. Gerard hadn’t heard them, but he knew them both well enough to shake his head in mock-annoyance.

He raised his wine glass when they’d all sat down again and said, “Let’s have a toast to my brother and his wife and their kid. Complimenti.”

“Complimenti!” they all echoed.

Frank was near to bursting with happiness in that moment. He looked over at Gerard and grinned. He couldn’t help himself. Gerard reached under the table and squeezed Frank’s hand.

***

After dinner, Mikey caught Gerard’s elbow and whispered, “I need to talk to you.” Gerard glanced at Frank and Mikey shrugged, so Frank followed them into the office.

“Alicia and I want to move to New York,” Mikey said without preamble.

“Mikey—”

“No, Gee, I can’t live here. I can’t raise a kid here.”

“This house is too big for just us,” Gerard said. “We grew up here, Mikey. It’s safe here.”

“Frank got shot in the kitchen!” Mikey replied loudly.

“Jesus, Mikey, stop,” Frank broke in. “Gerard’s right; this is the safest place you could pick to start a family, and it’s not like there’s no extra room.”

“You both know Alicia’s feelings about the business,” Mikey said. “And you know mine. I don’t want to subject a kid to that. We’ve already found a place, an apartment downtown.”

“ _Mikey_ …” Gerard breathed.

“It’s not safe,” Frank added. “We don’t have anybody out there; what if—”

“I’m not part of the Family, I’ll be fine.”

Gerard sat down and rubbed his face. “That’s not how it works, Mikey. You’re my brother; you’re always going to be at risk.”

“I’m moving out, Gerard,” Mikey said firmly. “It’s not like I won’t visit all the time, I just… I need—We need our own life. We’re moving out.”

Mikey turned to the door and Frank hurried after him. “Mikey, Mikey,” he whispered. “Give me the address. Let me have some guys check it out, at least. Please.”

Mikey stared at him for a moment, his expression blank, and finally nodded. Frank went back over to Gerard.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” he said, but he wasn’t really sure. He was paranoid as hell, and Gerard was too—they could only think of the worst case scenario.

***

Frank had a few friends in New York check out the neighborhood, the building, the owner, the other tenants, everything. Mikey told him he’d done his research, he’d checked things out himself, but Frank saw no harm in double-checking. Cortez called him up a couple of days later and confirmed that yes, everything looked okay, there were no sociopaths living in the building, nothing out of the ordinary at all. And it was even on the same block as a park where Mikey could take his kid.

Frank breathed a sigh of relief and relayed this information to Gerard, who still looked suspicious, but accepted defeat.

“It’s not like I can stop him leaving, anyway,” he mumbled. Frank rolled his eyes in agreement and called Mikey into the office.

“So, is it safe?” Mikey teased. “Can I live on my own?”

“Yes,” Frank said.

“No,” Gerard said at the same time.

“Wait, what?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, _what_?” Mikey echoed.

“No, stop, both of you. Listen. Frank checked the place out, and it’s fine, okay? But I don’t want you in New York alone, Mikey, it’s way too dangerous. We don’t have anyone close to you in case of an emergency, and you’re right in the middle of the Bellacinos’ territory.”

“So?”

“We’re on good terms with the Bellacinos,” Frank added. “We could ask them to watch out for him.”

“No. Mikey, I want Tony to go with you.”

“ _What_?” Mikey exploded. “You’re telling me I can’t even live on my own, with my own family? What the _fuck_ , Gerard?”

“Yeah, Gee—”

“No,” Gerard answered calmly. “That’s not what I’m saying. I want Tony in the area. There’s more apartments available in that building. I want him in one of them. You get your own place, Tony gets to move out of here, and I feel better knowing we’ve got somebody close to you.”

“Jesus Christ, Gerard,” Mikey groaned. He ran his hand through his hair.

“You can’t really control what Tony does, Mikes,” Frank murmured. “Gerard’s just going to send him after you anyway, just fucking agree to it already.”

“Mikey, it’s not safe, there’s still a ton of people who want me—and by extension, _you_ —dead. Think of it this way: do you want your wife and child in danger?”

“No, of course not,” Mikey answered grudgingly.

“Tony will be there in case you ever have a situation where you might need him. That’s all. And besides, Tony’s spent most of his adult life trailing after you, it’s not like it’s a new development. He’ll have his own apartment; you and Alicia can have your own space. Everybody’s happy. Deal?”

“Fuck you, Gee,” Mikey said. He and Gerard did their secret brother handshake, which was just like a normal handshake, but done to the tune of a song that Frank didn’t know. “Deal. I’ll go tell Alicia and we can start moving in.”

When Mikey’d left the room, Frank bumped hips with Gerard. “You’re a manipulative genius.”

Gerard smirked.

***

It was over a month later before Mikey and Alicia (and Tony, but Mikey didn’t like to acknowledge that Tony was moving with them) had most of their stuff in the new apartment. They’d gone furniture shopping and appliance shopping and baby shopping, and Frank was honestly getting a little bit bored of shopping with them. Gerard had started to take over for him, picking out sheets and tablecloths and curtains as a way to bond with his sister-in-law.

He and Bob were actually out shopping with her now, Bob tagging along to watch out for her. Alicia had, unsurprisingly, become smitten with Bob the first time she went in for an appointment with him. Frank could understand that; Bob was excellent at making people feel comfortable, when he wanted to be. Tony had volunteered to escort them, saying he needed to buy a toaster for his new place.

Frank still hadn’t seen Mikey’s apartment in person. He and Mikey sat in the kitchen wrapping newspaper around picture frames and CD cases and fitting them neatly into boxes, and Frank asked, “This is the last batch, right?”

“Should be,” Mikey replied. “But it’s not like I won’t be able to come back in case we leave something.”

“Weekly dinners, right?”

Mikey nodded and sighed like he was reciting his history notes. “I will try to come over at least once a week, and I will keep you updated on the baby, and I will call you immediately when Alicia goes into labor.”

Frank nodded, satisfied with Mikey’s answer. “Good. I swear we won’t corrupt your kid.”

“Good.”

“Alright, I’m done,” Frank said. Mikey closed the lid on both boxes and taped over them. “Want me to come with you? I haven’t seen the new place, yet. You can show me around. Give me the grand tour.”

Mikey smiled. “Nothing’s unpacked yet, y’know. It’s a mess.”

“You think I care? C’mon, let’s go.”

***

Mikey reached the door first and kicked it with a loud groan. Frank, standing behind him, nudged Mikey and said, “Open it, c’mon. And next time, find an apartment with a working elevator, what the fuck.”

“It’s fucking locked,” Mikey replied.

“Here, hold on.” Frank put the box he was carrying on top of Mikey’s small stack. “Which pocket?” he asked, ignoring Mikey’s groan at the sudden additional weight.

“Ugh, front left,” Mikey said, then cocked his hips to the side to give Frank easier access.

Frank dug around in Mikey’s pocket for the keys, his free hand resting at the small of Mikey’s back to hold him steady. “Fucking tight pants,” he muttered.

“I’m gonna tell my brother you were feeling me up,” Mikey teased. “Hurry up, dude.”

Finally, Frank pulled out the key ring and fumbled the correct one into the lock. The door opened to the inside and stopped short. “Shit,” Frank said. “Hold on, there’s a box blocking…” Frank poked his head inside; Mikey had spent the last three days bringing in boxes and furniture and the entryway was crowded with junk, boxes stacked haphazardly on top of each other. Frank wiggled his body around the door and called, “Hold on, let me clear a path. Jesus, Mikey, how much junk do you and Alicia need?”

“Come on,” Mikey shouted back. “These are getting heavy, dude.”

Frank chuckled and started shoving boxes out of the way. When he had the entrance mostly cleared, he straightened up and heard a loud bang, and all of the sudden he couldn’t catch his breath. Frank gasped and fell to his knees, choking on his next inhale.

“Frank?” Mikey yelled. “ _Frank_?” Frank heard boxes fall to the floor, the sound of glass breaking. He hoped it wasn’t Alicia’s good china, the set she inherited from her grandmother. Alicia would be pissed. Mikey opened the door and screamed his name, even though he was only right there.

“Oh god, oh god, Frank, Jesus, oh my god,” Mikey said frantically, and that’s when the bang finally registered in Frank’s mind. Gunshot. Oh fuck, not again. Mikey bent over him, still babbling, and there was blood on his hands.

“Get down, get down,” Frank hissed. It hurt to talk, felt like his throat was on fire. “Mikey—”

“Oh god, Frankie.” Mikey’s bloody hands fumbled with his cell phone and tears were running in thick streams down Mikey’s face. He put one hand back on Frank’s chest and pressed down. Frank hoped Mikey had the sense to stay behind the short stack of boxes.

“It’s Mikey,” he said quickly into the phone, “I need help, please—Oh fuck, Gerard’s going to kill me—Help, please, Frank’s been shot—Our apartment, oh Jesus Christ—Get Gerard and Bob here, please hurry, fuck.” He dropped the phone and crouched over Frank again, now with both hands pressing hard on his chest.

Beyond the blood pounding in his ears, Frank could suddenly hear people moving around in the apartment. He grabbed Mikey’s arm, tried to reach for his gun, but it hurt to twist that way and Mikey was still a lead weight on top of him. Frank needed to shoot those guys, fucking kill them; Mikey was in danger. Frank reached again for his gun but the motion turned into a flailing sort of muscle spasm. “Oh shit, Mikey,” Frank muttered. “Help me, I need to—”

Mikey nodded like he understood, like he wasn’t completely freaked out, and grabbed Frank’s gun. “Where are they, Frankie?”

“I think—I think left. Gimme—”

Mikey shushed him and knelt up to look over the boxes shielding them. He held the gun steady, fired four shots, and looked around wildly for any other intruders. Frank heard two cut-off cries, two bodies falling to the floor. Mikey let the gun fall from his hands.

“Damn, Mikey,” Frank said proudly.

“Two shots each,” Mikey replied, cracking a smile. “Just because I don’t like to use guns doesn’t mean I don’t know how. I learned same as you and Gee.”

Frank laughed; it turned quickly into a low moan from the pain, and he closed his eyes tight. “Fuck, Mikey,” he panted.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Frankie, just hold on, okay? Bob and Gee are gonna be here soon. Just hold on, Frankie, it’s okay,” Mikey said breathlessly. There was blood all over his arms up to his elbows.

Bob appeared at the door over Mikey’s shoulder some time later, Gerard right on his heels. They both fell to their knees and skidded to a halt around Frank. Bob took Mikey’s place, his hands pushing and probing at Frank’s chest, and Gerard picked up Frank’s hand and held it tightly in both of his.

“He went in and they shot him,” Mikey explained in a rushed voice, “and I tried to put pressure on or whatever, but I don’t know—”

“You did good, Mikes,” Bob said quietly, staring intently down at Frank.

“Mikey got ‘em,” Frank added. “He shot ‘em. He was good.” He smiled briefly and gasped again because it hurt.

“Oh, Frankie,” Gerard sighed. He squeezed Frank’s hand.

The pain didn’t feel as bad now. It didn’t hurt so much to talk. So Frank talked. “I’m really kinda over being shot, Gee,” he said, twisting his lips into what he hoped resembled a grin. He might’ve missed the mark, though, because Gerard shook his head and started crying.

“Me too, Frankie. Let’s not do this again, okay?”

“Told you I’d fuckin’ die for you, Gee.”

“You’re not—”

“I need to tell you—”

“Frankie, you’re not gonna die, you’re—”

“Let him talk,” Bob broke in quietly. He touched Gerard’s wrist and Gerard fell silent, disbelief smoothing the worry lines on his forehead. Bob’s face was tense. He brushed Frank’s sweaty hair off his forehead and left his hand on Frank’s face for a moment, cupping Frank’s cheek. He cleared his throat and whispered, “I’m sorry,” then replaced his hand on Frank’s chest with Gerard’s. Then he and Mikey both retreated a few feet to give them some privacy. Frank was almost sad to see them go.

Gerard was crying freely now, one hand tight around Frank’s and the other clutching at Frank’s blood-stained t-shirt. “No, Frankie, please don’t—”

“I need to tell you,” Frank said again, “need to say... thank you—”

“Frank, what—” Gerard shook his head.

“I’m sorry I was such an asshole,” Frank continued. “‘Cause I really love you a lot, Gerard. Fuck. Oh god, Gee—”

“Frankie, Frank, I love you, don’t leave me, please—”

“I’m fuckin’ dyin’, Gerard,” Frank breathed. The pain was back: his chest felt like it was burning, like there were actual flames licking the inside of his skin, and his toes curled as he tried to squirm away from them. His hands flexed and he yanked at Gerard’s sleeve. The flames were crawling up inside him, it was unbearable. Frank closed his eyes and breathed through his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Frankie, I’m so sorry,” Gerard was saying, over and over again. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

It was getting hard to breathe through the pain. Frank tasted blood on his tongue. He shook his head violently, though it made him dizzy. “No, Gee, don’t—Don’t do that, don’t be—Augh—Don’t be guilty, please—”

“Frank, you fucking took a bullet for me. Twice. Of course I’m—”

“I would fucking do it again, too,” Frank growled. Another flash of pain hit, knocking the breath from Frank’s lungs. He couldn’t feel his feet.

“Oh god, Frank. Frank. Please don’t leave me,” Gerard whispered desperately.

“Never—Never want to hurt you, Gee, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Please, Frankie...”

“It’s okay,” Frank gasped. “It’s okay, I’m happy.”

“I never did anything right by you. I should’ve—”

“You made me happy.” Frank became vaguely aware of the tears sliding down his own cheeks. He could distinguish them from the rivulets of blood moving slower and stickier across his skin. His throat felt clogged with slime and he coughed, but it didn’t relieve the pressure. It was getting more and more difficult to breathe.

Gerard wiped his eyes with his sleeve and managed to leave smears of blood on his face anyway. He didn’t put his hand back on Frank’s chest; it wasn’t going to help at this point, they both knew that. Instead, he stroked Frank’s hair, much like Bob had done, and traced his fingers over Frank’s open lips. Besides the blood on them, they were dry and cracking. Frank flicked his tongue out to moisten them but the sharp taste of blood made him want to gag.

“Gerard. Gerard.” Frank closed his eyes for a long moment, opened them again slowly. He was dizzy, even though he wasn’t moving. Gerard sucked in a shaky breath and held it. “You made me happy,” Frank repeated. “I love you so much.”

Gerard bent over and kissed Frank’s lips. Frank couldn’t even feel anything beyond a slight pressure on his mouth and he wanted to cry. He went through the motions of returning the kiss, imagining the best kiss they’d ever shared. When Gerard finally pulled away, Frank gasped for air. He closed his eyes again, concentrated on breathing. He heard Gerard sobbing above him.

“Oh god, I love you,” he cried, “I love you.” Gerard kissed his forehead, a soft brush of lips that Frank recognized. He still had to fill in the blanks of what it should feel like. He should feel the texture, the warmth of Gerard’s lips, the moist air on his skin as Gerard breathed. “Frankie, please,” Gerard cried. “Hold my hand, Frankie, please.”

Frank thought he was holding Gerard’s hand. There was still the familiar, unrelenting pressure that would turn into an ache if Gerard didn’t stop squeezing and grinding the bones of his hand together. He could still distinguish the weight of Gerard leaning over him, resting his forehead on Frank’s.

“Frankie, hold my hand, please, Frankie, please, please, please,” Gerard sobbed. Frank could hear the desperation in his voice now. He wanted to open his eyes but they felt glued shut. “Please, Frankie, oh god, please, please...”

Frank couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs and he supposed it was useless to work so hard at it. He concentrated instead on doing what Gerard asked, on closing his unresponsive fingers around Gerard’s.

“Oh god, Frank, please, please, please don’t leave me, please, oh god, please,” Gerard was saying. Frank could barely distinguish the words beneath the sobbing. “Please, please... Frankie...”

Frank summoned the energy to force his hand to move. His fingers twitched and curled, and Frank’s lips quirked up into a slight smile. He pretended he could feel Gerard’s hand in his, that the warmth of Gerard’s body overwhelmed the pain that he couldn’t even really pinpoint anymore. He pretended he could feel Gerard respond and kiss his bleeding lips.

He pretended he could feel anything at all.

  
 _fin_.


End file.
